So, I probably should post more of "Charging Sky," but this opportunity presented itself in my Creative Writing class today. It's kinda odd, and totally outside of their normalcy, but I like it, especially after 2x09 (grr). One-shot meandering is all. Enjoy! (Emma's POV, if not made clear).
Tell-Tale Heart
Her eyes are that of darkened caramel, yet translucently so, and a light seems to be shining from within them outward. The taste of her sweetness won't leave my senses, and I am forced to thrust into my own chest, through lace-paper skin and crumbling bones, to still my heart. My pulse slows, and I breathe out.
"I can't."
Her features are almost crestfallen, yet she retains her ever-present stoicism and patiently remains silent, anticipating my explanation. But I can elicit none.
"I can't," I repeat. I drop the white, fragile rose she had handed me. It doesn't make a sound as it floats to the rushes, but I hear my own gasp as her hand closes slender, guiding fingers around my quaking wrist.
"I know, dear." But she smiles, without any traces of mordancy, or the ascetic, biting wit that is so often present. Her fingers are strong and reliable- infallible. She uses them to pull me closer, and she leans in, her nose brushing my cheekbone. Her breath dances smoothly across the planes of my face, then it curls around my neck; not a chokehold, but a wisp of her sway over me.
I feel her hum against the skin of my throat, my stomach undulating in response to the vibrations. Tendrils want to erupt from my body, to circle her and press her against me further; forever.
I clench my heart tighter still, desperate to regain some semblance of control. Willing myself to remain in suspended animation- in a state where nothing she could possibly dream of doing would ever rouse me. Oh, how I wish for Aurora's curse.
"I can't." This time, I whisper it out in defeat. Unable to stand the sight of her, I allow my eyelids to droop. I feel her shift, and the pads of her fingers are on my lips, her own lips suddenly just beneath my ear.
"I know."
The silk of her mouth is on me in the slightest of kisses. I shudder, and lose grasp of my now bruised heart. Her fingers find it instead, and with a jolt, it sputters erratically. She pumps once, twice, then releases. It settles into a steady rhythm- a traitor, as always. I choke, resignation coating my conscious. If my own heart is not my ally, then I have no one. Nothing.
I open my eyes, caught in a thick, settled haze. I blink it away, and she is still grasping my wrist. Noting my eyes on her, she exhales, pulls away from my body, and moves to let go.
"Wait."
She cocks her head, the lift of her eyebrows a silent, rhetorical "what, dear?" as if she doesn't expect me to actually gift her with a parting word.
"I love you."
That startles her. Her perfect lips are slightly parted; her version of slack-jawed.
"I...I know," whispers the tremulous, unbelieving reply.
I laugh, really laugh, with an ungainly snort thrown in for good measure. After revivifying my soul, very being, now she is afraid? I disengage her hand, only to interlace her fingers with my own.
"I know," I murmur. "I know."
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