Warmth spilt across a rumpled bedspread; sunlight. Their was a figure still abed, but the sun seemed quite insistent she rise and greet its magnanimous presence properly. Shifting out from beneath the speckled and gingerly cared for squares of a more sumptuous quilt was a mop of sleep tussled curls and bare, pale limbs. Lilliana angrily peered out, staring quite fearlessly into the vibrant light bringer? at least until spots began to blind and blink across her vision. Rubbing the sting of her eyes, the gypsy witch turned as she found her free hand resting against the empty space of her bed. The smile that came across her lush lips was a mixture of contentment and sorrow; gone again. Zayveon didn?t often stay abed like she, so the buxom was used to waking alone from time to time, but that didn?t mean it touched her any less deeply.
There was a time in Lilliana?s life that she would have reacted quite the opposite at finding her bed empty; it was a good sign, actually. Having to wake with someone in your bed meant you had to face the possibility of feelings, but if you had your tryst and gypsy-ed them to the door, or had your fun elsewhere? Well. No lover in your bed come the morn. It had been a good run, but in truth, while the gypsy kept her heart locked and her healthy body fed on the occasional lover, something had always been missing. That much was obvious though, but never so painfully until as of late.
Zayveon?s warmth was unnatural to say the least, so the loss of his body heat was felt all the more keenly. Somehow, someway, the draconian had wormed his image into her heart, scales and all; she had accepted him wholly and spoke words to him she?d not to anyone in all her long years.
?St?op tha? b?fore ya? ge? yerself all worse off.? Lilliana chided herself with a quiet chuckle as she moved from the bed. Her musing was warranted though; she had business to attend.
Stretching, washing, dressing, and giving a quick spruce about of her bed and her wagon, and the gypsy was ready. Slipping the golden key her draconian had so cleverly crafted for her about the thick pale of her neck, Lilliana moved towards her door, twitching as her pulse gave a little jump up in speed. Scenarios as to what she would say, and how she would say it kept replaying over and over again in the fiery buxom?s head.
It wasn?t that her mother, Melina, was a formidable woman; quite the contrary really, she was loving? If a bit overly loving. Melina had made it no secret she was keen on her daughter, her eldest, giving her a grandchild. She?d urged the same on Brishen, sure, but as the first born and the daughter, well? The pressure was a bit doubled. Seeing as it was her brother?s child she would be calling to her mother about today, Lilliana couldn?t help but feel the smallest bit of squeamishness. But she remembered Niamh?s swollen belly, and she remembered to love she shared with her draconian not ten hours before; his warmth was about her neck, living and breathing in that wrought gold key she held in the soft clench of her fist.
?Here goes?? She moved the key to the door, and the image of her mother?s wagon came to mind; a smile birthed despite her nervousness; the witch was excited to see her mother, her elder, her mentor? Feelings cast to the wind, Lilliana opened the door, felt the film of it?s magic portal pour over her, and stepped in to face a cat-ate-the-canary-smiling expression of her mother, Melina Garridan.
There was a time in Lilliana?s life that she would have reacted quite the opposite at finding her bed empty; it was a good sign, actually. Having to wake with someone in your bed meant you had to face the possibility of feelings, but if you had your tryst and gypsy-ed them to the door, or had your fun elsewhere? Well. No lover in your bed come the morn. It had been a good run, but in truth, while the gypsy kept her heart locked and her healthy body fed on the occasional lover, something had always been missing. That much was obvious though, but never so painfully until as of late.
Zayveon?s warmth was unnatural to say the least, so the loss of his body heat was felt all the more keenly. Somehow, someway, the draconian had wormed his image into her heart, scales and all; she had accepted him wholly and spoke words to him she?d not to anyone in all her long years.
?St?op tha? b?fore ya? ge? yerself all worse off.? Lilliana chided herself with a quiet chuckle as she moved from the bed. Her musing was warranted though; she had business to attend.
Stretching, washing, dressing, and giving a quick spruce about of her bed and her wagon, and the gypsy was ready. Slipping the golden key her draconian had so cleverly crafted for her about the thick pale of her neck, Lilliana moved towards her door, twitching as her pulse gave a little jump up in speed. Scenarios as to what she would say, and how she would say it kept replaying over and over again in the fiery buxom?s head.
It wasn?t that her mother, Melina, was a formidable woman; quite the contrary really, she was loving? If a bit overly loving. Melina had made it no secret she was keen on her daughter, her eldest, giving her a grandchild. She?d urged the same on Brishen, sure, but as the first born and the daughter, well? The pressure was a bit doubled. Seeing as it was her brother?s child she would be calling to her mother about today, Lilliana couldn?t help but feel the smallest bit of squeamishness. But she remembered Niamh?s swollen belly, and she remembered to love she shared with her draconian not ten hours before; his warmth was about her neck, living and breathing in that wrought gold key she held in the soft clench of her fist.
?Here goes?? She moved the key to the door, and the image of her mother?s wagon came to mind; a smile birthed despite her nervousness; the witch was excited to see her mother, her elder, her mentor? Feelings cast to the wind, Lilliana opened the door, felt the film of it?s magic portal pour over her, and stepped in to face a cat-ate-the-canary-smiling expression of her mother, Melina Garridan.