The soft, feathery tickle across Abe's face reminds him of some distant dream he once had, the wings of angels flitting across his vision as he swam beneath the water's rippling surface, pristine bubbles sparkling within the deep depths only he knew, laughter drifting around him like some soothing summer breeze. Angels; the creatures of myths and legends, hiding behind such a thick veil of mystery that Abe dare not dwell on the matter for too long, fearing some unnamed thing creeping into the back of his mind.
He blinks, a golden light fading from behind his eyelids, hushed whispers rushing from his head, and catches sight of the silky cloth of Nuala's nightgown, spread over him like a blanket, tossed carefully so that it would fall just right. Groggily, and more than a little hesitantly, Abe sits up against the plush pillows, titling his head at the bathroom door across the room. Steam floats out of the entrance, billowing atop itself like an animal chasing its own tail, and he can feel the humidity from the shower. He spots shelves of books through the doorway leading out into the library and finds himself staring at the one book so oddly placed among its companions.
He crawls out of bed, clutching Nuala's gown to his chest like a blanket, and makes his way through the door, walking over to the shelf to pick up the book, an aged one with the title long faded. He leafs through it, caught up in his curiosity, catching sight of swirling tick marks and letters that have smeared down the page, ink dips and expert penmanship abound. He stops short at a single page, dragging his fingers across the raised letters therein.
It is a bit of a tragedy, and a bit of a horror, to find myself so inexplicably drawn to him as I seem to be. He is kind, and then he is most certainly prepared to slap me, but lowers his hand at the last moment to murmur his apologies, always bringing his hands up to cup my face in a way that I know he should not. "My sister," he says, and although my heart thrashes against my ribs with a most painful drumming, my mind only feels him and his hands, so gentle across the scars upon my ruined face.
Abe drops the book, leaving it to lie on its spine, pages bent at odd angles, and a sort of sickness crawls its way up his body, mixed with an emotion nearly foreign to him; rage.
Rage, that Nuada would have the nerve, the audacity, to touch Nuala in such a way, a caress meant for lovers only.
"But I did not stop him," says a hushed voice from behind, just as Abe realizes that the water trickling within the shower has ceased, and he turns sharply, his nails digging into the fabric of her nightgown, which is, he realizes, missing from her dripping body, a towel snuggly wrapped about her as she stands in the doorway, her eyes glinting with some suppressed emotion that she hides from him, her mind closed to his own. He shakes his head, trying desperately to quell the burning blush taking over his whole body.
"But even if you had, who's to say he wouldn't have forced his touch upon you. We both know he always wanted to-"
"Yes, but I did not stop him. He was my brother and a part of me still yearned for his touch," she whispers, frowning. "Only because he was a piece of you, Nuala. There was no other reason," Abe reassures, taking a step forward just as she takes one step back.
"I left my old journal there so that you would find it, find it and read it and know that he was something for me, something more than what he should have been", she stops Abe with a hand just before he starts to speak, "and perhaps the sole force behind that was our link." She clutches the towel between her thin fingers, letting out a shaky sigh as she meets his gaze.
"But how can I be sure, Abraham? How can I be sure enough to be with you as I should?"
Abe suddenly remembers the night before, a night filled with excited laughter as they returned to their home, wedding dress just as white as Nuala's own skin, her eyes sparkling in the darkness as she changed and collapsed onto their bed, exhausted. Abe had been quick to follow, recalling the feel of her in his arms as he gently scooted her to one side so that he could nestle into the other. She had been so very warm, the blush creeping into her cheeks hidden beneath the covers, and he could not see the shy smile crossing her face.
He blinks and she's in front of him, the fact that she walked across the small expanse between them slipping his mind as he lets the nightgown fall from his grasp. He brings a hand to her cheek and she sighs into his palm, eyes glinting with unshed tears as she wraps her gentle fingers around his wrist, her fingertips brushing against the bird-like bones beneath his smooth skin. She blushes golden and he shakes his head at her, sending her the most comforting thoughts he can muster.
"If you were not one hundred percent sure, Nuala, then my touch wouldn't elicit such a mesmerizing reaction."
And she looks up at him, her lips curled halfway into a grin, and laughs. "My brother made me blush, as well, Abraham, whenever he would complement me, and I felt so ashamed for it," the elf mutters, and she looks so horribly sad that Abe can't take it anymore.
He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him, crushing his lips against hers in a rush of movement, his fingers firmly grasping her hips as she gasps against his mouth. He pulls away in the next instant, still holding her close to him, and tilts his head. Her whole body, from head to toe, seems to glow with the flow of blood, and she blushes even harder as her chest flushes, the scars across her collarbone lit up paler than the moon, and she gives a trembling sigh, her shoulders shivering.
"Now if that isn't a reaction," Abraham says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I don't know what is."
Nuala's eyes widen and she laughs as she reaches into the fold of her towel, where it's bunched up at the top, undoing the knot there.
Abe, lost to the sensation of touch, of fingers splayed across his skin with such innate tenderness and curiosity that it sends him into a near frenzy, quickly forgets about the ghost of feathers, or the imprint of a silk nightgown, and lets the smile forming against his mouth, coupled with a gasp that makes him tremble, coax him into a whole new world.
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