Third Time's the...
The heat radiates off his skin, plangent on her body when his hand brushes her shoulder. Liquid light is melting, glowing, blending in a pool of silver and gold at their feet. Telperion's waxing, Laurelin's waning, and the silent prelude to a question. His hand draws away, then touches her hair. She cannot see his face, does not wish to... yet. As one patient, she stands, allows him to caress the shining cascade, but she feels him keenly. His trembling fingers.
Moments later, his hand falls away and his face is turned to hers, she returns his gaze. In the mingled light his face seems chiselled from living fire, his eyes flames subdued.
His lips part, but not a word is spoken.
And yet she answers.
" No. "
And her voice is as soft as starlight, as cold as rain upon a glowing ember.
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