Passionate Unknown
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Splashes of magnificent colours made up the Garden that was Balamb. 'Twas a vision to behold, especially during Aurora's wake of golden dancing fingers. Students awoke to greet the brightness of day and inhaled the scent of a new morning, which was blanketed with another scent of fresh flowers – blue periwinkles, yellow daisies, and the occasional purple jasmines. Wisps of frosty white, that which were clouds, filled the light-colored cobalt heavens. An assortment of coloured butterflies, bright yellow tinted of which was the majority, danced around in the air. Air dancers, yes they were.
The mysterious man discarded his cape and left it in the thorn bushes, sure that no one would stumble upon it, yet aware of the possibilities one might. As he entered Balamb Garden, he greeted the several students who passed his way with either an unwelcoming frown or his specialty – a conniving yet debonair smirk.
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Slender fingers grazed over muscled arms. Callused hands explored skin that was as soft as silk. Aquamarine met emerald with lust and passion, perhaps even love. However, knowing the male's repute at Garden, love was never possible.
Irvine Kinneas propped himself up with an elbow and, with his hand, softly caressed his young devotee's rosy lips, which soon found its way between chocolate silken strands. A waterfall of russet cascaded over his hands and he could not help but play with the velvety feel of tresses.
Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him and stretched outward like an agile kitten. He watched her with sudden interest and licked his lips in temptation to hold her close to his body once again. But then she had quickly retreated into the bathroom and closed the door. Not once did she look at him.
Irvine smirked.
It wasn't like he could blame her for doing so. He was a 'use and abuse' type of guy. He was still confused if he actually enjoyed the title or repelled against it.
Irvine looked at the bathroom door and heard the sound of running water. He smiled a cynical smile. He shook his head. Trying to cleanse herself . . . hn . . . she'll be back in my bed in no time.
He stood up from the bed and changed into his pants but, instead of his usual top and coat, he opted for a white tank top. The scorching heat of July was beginning to have an effect on him as beads of sweat trailed down his neck.
After folding his clothes – and leaving it to hang on a chair nearby – he left the room.
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(A/N: Next chapter I might reveal who the girl and the man is. Honestly, this is hard for me since time is limited. But maybe I will. And maybe it'll be longer! Who knows =) )