Do we all know that fallen's prologue is in Daniel's pov so I am writing that bit the same and then it will go on.
Around midnight, her eyes at last took shape. The look in them was feline, half determined and half tentative-all trouble. Yes, they were just right, those eyes. Rising up to find her find, elegant brow, inches from the dark cascade of her hair. i held the paper at arm's length to assess his progress. It was hard, working without her in front of me, but then I never could sketch in her presence. Since I had arrived in London –no, since I had first seen her-I'd had to be careful always to keep her at a distance. Every day now she approached me, and every day was more difficult than the one before. It was why he was leaving in the morning-for India, for the Americas, I didn't know or care. Wherever I ended up, it would be easier than being here. He leaned overt drawing again, sighing as I used my thumb to perfect the smudged charcoal pout of her full bottom lip. This lifeless paper, cruel imposter, was the only way to take her with me. Then straightening up in the leather library chair, I felt it. That brush of warmth on the back of my neck.
Her.
Her mere proximity gave me the most peculiar sensation, like the kind of heat sent out when a log shatters to ash in a fire. I knew without turning around: She was there. I covered her likeness on the bound papers in my lap, but I could not escape her.
My eyes fell on the ivory-upholstered settee across the parlour, where only hours earlier she'd turned up unexpectedly later than the rest of her party in a rose silk gown, to applaud the eldest daughter of their host after a fine turn at the harpsichord. I glanced across room, out the window to the veranda, where the day before she'd crept up on him, a fistful of wild white peonies in her hand. She still though the pull she felt towards him was innocent, that our frequent rendezvous in the gazebo were merely… happy coincidences. To be so naïve! He would never tell her otherwise- the secret was mine to bear.
I stood and turned, the sketches left on the leather chair. And there she was, pressed against the ruby velvet curtains in her plain white dressing gowned. Her black hair had fallen from its braids. The look on her face was the same as the one I'd sketched so many t5imes. There was the fire, rising in her cheeks. Was she angry? Embarrassed? I longed to know, but I could not allow myself to ask" what are you doing?" I could hear the snarl in my voice, and regretted the sharpness, knowing she would never understand.
"I-I couldn't sleep," she stammered, moving toward the fire and my chair. "I saw the light in your room and then"-she paused, looking down at her hands-"your trunk outside the door. Are you going somewhere?"
"I was going to tell you-"I broke off. I shouldn't lie. I had never intended to let her know my plans. Telling her would only make things -ready, I had let things go too far, and hoping this time would be different.
She drew nearer, and her eyes fell on my sketchbook. "You were drawing me?"
Her startled tone reminded me how great the gap was in our understanding. Even after all the time we'd spent together these past few weeks, she had not yet begun to glimpse the truth. behind our attraction.
This was good-or at least, it was for the better. For the past several days, since I'd made the choice to leave, I'd been struggling to pull away from her. The effort took so much out of me that, as soon that was alone, I had to give I n to my pent-up desire to draw her. I had filled up my book with pages of her arched neck, her marble collarbone, the black abyss of her hair.
Now, I looked back on the sketch, not ashamed about being caught drawing her , but worse. A cold chill spread through me as I realized that her discovery-the expo-sure of my feelings-would destroy her .He should have been more careful. It always began like this.
"Warm milk with a spoonful of treacle," I murmured my back still to her. Then sadly I added," It helps you sleep."
"How did you know? Why, that's exactly what my mother used-"
"I know," I said, turning to face her. The astonishment in her voice did not surprise me, yet I could not explain to her how I knew, or how many times I had administered this very drink to he in the past when the shadows came, how I had held her until she fell asleep.
I her touch as though it were burning through my shirt, her hand laid gently on my shoulder, causing me to gasp. We had not yet touched in this life and the always left me breathless.
"Answer me; she whispered "Are you leaving?"
"Yes."
"Then take me with you," she blurted out. Right on cue, I watched her suck in her breath, wishing to take back her plea. I could see the progression of her emotions settle in the crease between her eyes: She would feel impetuous, then bewildered, then ashamed by her own forwardness. She always did this, and too many times before, I had made the mistake of comforting her at this exact moment.
"No," I whispered, remembering… always remembering…. "I sail tomorrow, if you care for me at all, you won't say another word."
"If I carte for you," she repeated, almost as if she was speaking to herself. "I-I loved-"
"Don't."
"I have to say it, I-I love you, I'm quite sure, and if you leave-"
"if I leave, I save your life." I spoke slowly, trying to reach a part of her that might remember. Was it there at all, buried somewhere? "Some things are more important than love. You won't understand, but you have to trust me."
Her eyes drilled into me. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. This was my fault, too-I always brought out her contemptuous side we I spoke down to her.
"You mean to say there are things more important than this "She challenged, taking my hand and drawing them to her heart.
Oh, to be heart and not know what was coming! Or at least be stronger than I was and be able to stop her. If I didn't stop her, she would never learn, and the past would only repeat itself, torturing us again and again.
The familiar warmth of her skin under my hands made me tilt my head back and moan. I was trying to ignore how close she was, I well I know the feel of her lips on mine, how bitter I was to know this had to end. But her fingers traced mine so lightly. I could feel her heart racing through her thin cotton gown.
She was right. There was nothing more than this. There never was. I was about to give in and take her in my arms when I caught the look in her if she'd seen a ghost.
She was the one to pull away, a hand to her fore head.
"I'm having the strangest sensation," she whispered.
No-was it already too late?
Her eyes narrowed into the shape in my sketch and she came back to me, her hands on my chest, her lips parted expectantly. "Tell me I'm mad, but I swear I've been here before…."
So it was too late. I looked up, shivering, and could feel the dark descending. I took one last chance to seize her, to hold her as tightly as i8'd been yearning to for weeks.
As soon as her lips melted into mine, both of us were powerless. The honeysuckle taste of her mouth made me dizzy. The closer she pressed against me, the more my stomach churned with the thrill and agony of it all. Her tongue traced mine, and the fire between us burned bitter, hotter more powerful with every new touch, every new exploration. Yet none of it was new.
The room quaked. An aura around us started to glow
She noticed nothing besides our kiss.
I alone knew what was about to happen, what dark companions were prepared to fall on our reunion. Even though I was unable to alter the course of our lives yet again, I knew.
The shadows swirled directly overhead. So close, I, might of touched them. So close, I wondered whether she could hear what they were whispering. I watched as the cloud passed over her face. For a moment I saw a spark of recognition growing in her eyes.
Then there was nothing, nothing at all
So I know it's the same as the book but I had to do this to get started
Till; next time
Love
Crazy-person123
xxx
