Splash
It is like an assault on his senses.
He lies flat on his back in the grass, spread-eagled as though dropped from a great height, immobile and relaxed, and yet his heart is racing. He shuts his eyes in a futile attempt to block out a tiny fraction of the outside world, which currently pours in upon him from all sides, and focus on his other feelings. If he empties his mind and lets his senses take over, he is able to lose himself for hours, content to lay still and just feel, surrounded and swimming in the wonder of it. Risembool may not be dynamic, and he is the first to admit it is not bustling or exciting or exotic, but when he lets go of the small amount of control it has taken him so long to develop, and allows himself to spread out to his full extent, it seems as though there is a fresh thrill and spot of interest everywhere. He is fascinated by the scent of mown grass, and the subtle prickling sensation the plant provokes in his skin; the feeling of the early spring sunlight and wind, and the shivers they produce in his body, running delicately all the way down his spine. Some small nothing brushes lightly against his face, a feather-touch on the tip of his nose; he sneezes, and is delighted by the clearness it brings to his head.
He opens his eyes, and the barrage of observations increase staggeringly once again. Lying on her stomach beside him, stalk of grass held carefully in her hand, face half-hidden amongst the same damp green plants, she smiles slowly, understandingly, at him.
Because still, even after all this time, he can sense everything. And although it can be distracting and upsetting at times, not to mention confusing, at that moment, as she rolls over in the grass and he feels it all- the smooth, slightly cooled surface of her skin, and the light splash of her bright hair brushing down on his cheek, and the swift play of her slim hardened fingers across his patches of bare skin, and the intoxicatingly sweet softness of her kiss- he is profoundly grateful for it.
Author's notes: Glomps can kill. No kidding. One of my friends tacklehugged my head really hard, and the arm of my glasses snapped clean off the next day. . .
On another note, I have converted two of my friends to AlWin, and one to Royai. YESSSSSS.