Hello!
I did something I shouldn't have done.
I reread some parts of Dishonored.
This work is based off of said dialog from Dishonored:
"I must have you know, young friend, that when I return you to your body, not only will your body be changed into that of a dragon, but all your memories from your mortal life shall be wiped from your mind. It may be hard now, but once you are a dragon you will not be bothered, for you will not remember. However, you will be able to retain all of your memories once every month-when the moon is full. That is also when you can become mortal once more." - The Chronicler, Chapter 39.
And:
"No, not anymore, Ember. You are-how do I say this?-Human." - William Farring, Duke of Bavaria, Chapter 43.
So I thought-Why not write a mini one shot series about a romance between Ember and Silas that can only truly happen once every month for only a few hours?
Her voice trickled through the still night air, soft and gentle, as if the lulling winds casting askew vibrant petals in a tender caress.
The darkness of the night was illuminated lightly by the glow of the full moon, the skies clear of cloud and exposing a blanket of glittering stars.
The gales blew timidly, tenderly, across the darkened field of flowers, vibrant colors of red, yellow and purple dull in the shadows.
A great and aged oak stood guard over the field, resting upon a calmly sloped knoll, bark gnarled and weathered from the rivers of time.
Once more, her soft voice fluttered through the clear skies in a riveting giggle.
Ember's cerulean eyes shone in the dark, glittering brighter than the stars that painted the blackened skies.
Her bright eyes shined with joy and mirth, a light flush of red hue adorning her cheeks in mirth. Her soft, pink lips were molded into a smile, white teeth shimmering under a film of saliva that reflected the moon's light. Her fair and cream colored skin glowed in the night, smooth and uncalloused by battle and grit, feminine form wrapped in the thin, humble fabric of a simple white dress.
Ember's pink hair had grown out, wrapped with care in a braid as her head lay upon the lap of her suitor. Strands the color of a rosy dawn tangled and weaved along her delicate jawline, and like vines, gripped and coiled around her bare shoulders and dress. Her knees were bent, flounce flowering and hiding her naked feet, toes splaying and playfully gripping the cool grass.
The woman's sapphire gaze fell upon the storm born eyes of her suitor, whose calloused fingers brushed a stray strand of dawn hued hair away. The same calloused and war weary hands that held the power to take life-were the same hands that treated her so gently.
The same hands that killed her friend-the same hands that were stained with Cynder's blood-were the same hands that touched her in such love and care.
Ember never imagined she would enjoy the hands of a human so much.
Not while whilst she was a dragon.
Nor whilst she was a mortal.
But it was nice.
It was lovely.
Because in these moments-Ember truly realized how much she missed the knight.
Truly realized how much she loved Silas.
A killer of kin was he, yet, a protector and guardian to she, he was.
Yes, the same battle hardened hands that raised a blade and pierced the hide of her kin-were the same hands Ember felt protected the most in.
The same hands that currently plucked a flower from the stem, and playfully stroked the soft and fragile petals against her smooth skin as if an artist carefully painting his canvas.
A laugh trickled from the woman's throat, lithe hand brushing his larger one away to rid her cheek of being tickled.
Her slender fingers rose, lovingly, tenderly brushing against his bearded jawline. She could feel his beard being molded as his lips pulled upwards in a smile.
Silas-with a beard.
Ember didn't realize how much Silas changed.
Last she saw him, he was clean shaven.
And now-he sported a beard.
And she was fascinated with it.
The beard felt so smooth and soft yet course against her fingers.
If bull dragons grew large horns-men no doubt grew beards.
And Ember didn't think she understood how a beard could make a human male so attractive until now.
Her fingers resumed to comb and brush his beard, feeling the strength of his jaw.
Her fingers curled, slipping behind the back of his neck, seeking to pull him closer.
Her palms were beginning to sweat, and there was a feeling of silent desperation within her actions.
The knight bent down, compliant with her silent wishes.
The stars and the moon shone above, and the gentle glow of fireflies littered the field.
The air was still, and the skies clear.
They were alone, under the oak.
Alone, save for the quiet, rhythmic backdrop of chanting insects.
Gently, carefully, lovingly did their lips meet, chaste, and simple, at first. Then their lips danced like the delicate lapping of waves upon the shoreline, tongues tying tenderly.
Ember couldn't suppress the smile that molded into her lips whilst she kissed the knight.
Silas' beard tickled.
Their breaths intermixed and joined together.
Briefly did they cease their union to breathe-and Ember felt the bristles of Silas' beard brush against her as he planted a kiss upon her brow.
Once more, it made the dragon turned woman laugh.
Soon did her hand find his, and their fingers interlocked and molded as one.
The night was pretty.
It was a good night to spend together.
Ember only hoped next month's moon would be just as beautiful, if not more.
