[ She shifts this time, and it's not the cloying grip, the need to hold onto something because she wasn't sure she could remember how to move herself under her own will. This was to hold, this was to be close, because Ilde was there, offering things most people couldn't understand the weight of.
Rather she feeds off that giddiness, lets it give her the courage to move closer. No more experienced than Ilde is about what it means. A short sharp inhalation as she presses them together again. Just as messy, but with more intent on being close. A twist of limbs, a mess of hair, the clumsy brush of her nose against Ilde's cheek, the press of her fingers against her hip. She has no learning on how to be intimiate, just a galaxy full of observation that she tries to apply to mixed effect. A second to get comfortable like that, another to find her stillness where she might giggle or cry again and to let her eyes close with it.
Sleeping again is still strange, she hasn't gotten used to the fitfullness of dreaming again. The drift into it no longer comes natural. But for once -- it's less so. For once she's lulled into the quiet, and yes in dreaming it's thing she never remembers the details of, ancient buildings and forgotten star systems and things hidden by time as much as space - but she doesn't care then. Rather it's a second where she has her eyes lowered, taking in rise and fall of Ilde's own breathing and then afterwards its an absence she finds not awful. To sift down like moving through water, not drowning this time, just wading into the comfortable warmth and depth before she sinks away. That oddness to sleeping -- alive without being aware, a laxness and and an evenness to her breath when finally she's asleep, resting against Ilde -- no more and no less than that. ]
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circumspector) wrote2016-03-14 03:55 pm
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Rather she feeds off that giddiness, lets it give her the courage to move closer. No more experienced than Ilde is about what it means. A short sharp inhalation as she presses them together again. Just as messy, but with more intent on being close. A twist of limbs, a mess of hair, the clumsy brush of her nose against Ilde's cheek, the press of her fingers against her hip. She has no learning on how to be intimiate, just a galaxy full of observation that she tries to apply to mixed effect. A second to get comfortable like that, another to find her stillness where she might giggle or cry again and to let her eyes close with it.
Sleeping again is still strange, she hasn't gotten used to the fitfullness of dreaming again. The drift into it no longer comes natural. But for once -- it's less so. For once she's lulled into the quiet, and yes in dreaming it's thing she never remembers the details of, ancient buildings and forgotten star systems and things hidden by time as much as space - but she doesn't care then. Rather it's a second where she has her eyes lowered, taking in rise and fall of Ilde's own breathing and then afterwards its an absence she finds not awful. To sift down like moving through water, not drowning this time, just wading into the comfortable warmth and depth before she sinks away. That oddness to sleeping -- alive without being aware, a laxness and and an evenness to her breath when finally she's asleep, resting against Ilde -- no more and no less than that. ]