seaboard: (⌜𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢⌟)
𝕘𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒 𝕤𝕥. 𝕝𝕠𝕖 | ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ-ꜱᴇᴀ ([personal profile] seaboard) wrote in [community profile] logs 2022-10-11 02:04 am (UTC)

[ He would have flustered her, so utterly, when she had been younger. She would have been in knots just to have him look upon her. Beautiful in all the ways she hungered to be, and cool and calm as she knew her mother would wish for her to maintain. A mix of jealousy and desire and confrontation of all the things she could not be that would have made her hands shake just to have him look upon her.

But at least that nonsense had left her, the finality that power left behind, as she brought the drink up, uncorking it with a little tug. Her fingers unafraid to touch him as she braced under his chin, knuckles brushing briefly as she framed his features like a holy woman bestowing grace. The drink is foul, bitter and ugly to taste and look at.

But she tips it against his lips like a promise, letting him drink deep, mercilessly, so.

One, two mouthfuls, however much he can manage, before she brings it back to her own lips, and knocks it back in a long mouthful, an agreement that whatever this is, they are doing together.

A hazy, brief smile, before the euphoria hits, and she tumbles and slides away to fall into the hay bale as he had, a mad and sweet laughter that lives and dies in her throat.
]

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