Touch
Crysanthemum had long since said her goodbyes to the sensation of touch. At first, undeath had not warranted the use of such frivolity. Touch was only used to grasp the hilt of a sword, to stretch out one's hand and spread death and decay. To verify the pulse had gone. But no real feeling.
She couldn't recall exactly how it felt before her death. Sometimes she would remember, a glimpse of how it felt when someone touched her hand. When the breeze gently moved her hair across her skin. But it was fleeting, and it wasn't the same. Now, touch merely told her that her skin had been cut. It told her her limbs were atrophied from overuse. It told her that there was no pulse, but she could not feel that the skin was as cold as she was.
So when the Paladin she'd known in life gently placed his hand on her cheek, she didn't know why suddenly she felt warmth against her face. She couldn't explain the tense change in her chest, nor the sigh that escaped her lips as his hard shaped perfectly against hers. It was a sensation she hadn't felt in years, her cold skin having been bereft of such pleasurable touch. His Fel-green eyes scanned her frosted-blue ones, searching, looking for a trace of the girl she'd once been.
Was it his holy aura that made her feel this way? The heady burning in her chest that threatened to destroy her very being? His touch like fire upon her cheek, but not burning her skin.
"Crysanthemum." His voice was low, sorrowful. It bespoke of mourning. "You're... It really is you."
It was not a question. It was a revelation. A reminder. Of a ghost of a person that had existed once before, and had been seen like a meteor through a darkened sky. It was as if he'd seen her face a thousand times in his mind's eye, and now, seeing her like this...
Words lay on her tongue but it would not speak them. She hadn't seen him in years. She couldn't even count them. There were so many gaps. But, the memories, however faint, were there. He hadn't changed at all. Nothing had, really. He, ever young as was his bloodline, and her, frozen in time, never aging from the time of her death. Her green skin had lost some of its luster over time, having been shielded from the light over the years. Her lavendar hair had not changed, remaining bright and curled around her face. A stray curl fluttered over his hand, and she found herself deftly wondering what it felt like to him.
"It's so strange." He said, his fingers running along her skin, a trail of heat down her cheek. "I knew that this... that this had happened to you but..." His brow furrowed, his gentle eyes seeming to darken for a brief moment.
Crysanthemum, hesistant as she was, reached down to pull off her plated glove. Her hand free, she placed her hand on his cheek, feeling a warmth she hadn't in years. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes, realizing suddenly that it was emotion that was overcoming her. She was feeling again.
Brought about by his touch.
...
Hello Readers! First in a series of many one-shots and short stories. Just snapshots of life in Azeroth. This particular snippet is Goblin DK Crysanthemum and Blood Elf Paladin Dess. Enjoy!