His smile would have been charming if he let himself be his age; and she couldn't help but miss the absence of wrinkles. But then, she looked decades younger than her husband—time had stopped, for her, when she'd been married off to a man that prided beauty and power over treating his wife like a human.
But time would have stopped anyway. Like Magnus, there had been one person that could convince her to grow old with them. And he hadn't even had to convince her. When their affair had rekindled, she'd ended the sustained blood magic that left her youthful.
His hug was comforting; safe. Like she could sit there for a thousand years, and no harm would come to her. He wasn't the first person to give her such a hug, but it was nice when it felt like she was facing the brutality of the world alone. His voice was low, breath hot against her ear, and she smiled before she slipped away.
The guest room was prepared by one of her maids. Cleaned, dusted, new sheets and bed set. Eularia lit the room with candles, and waited in the window-seat. Whether she expected him to climb in through the window (honestly, how scandalous) or present himself to her servants and be taken to her, was unclear.
She had dressed down for the night, wearing a simple night-slip, barefooted, hair down from the tight bun she typically wore it in. This was almost like a transaction, than her nights with her husband. It was a distinct difference that she needed. The wild passion could come later; but it could not be how this night started. Not right now, while she had people searching every country for him. Not while she still held out hope.
But time would have stopped anyway. Like Magnus, there had been one person that could convince her to grow old with them. And he hadn't even had to convince her. When their affair had rekindled, she'd ended the sustained blood magic that left her youthful.
His hug was comforting; safe. Like she could sit there for a thousand years, and no harm would come to her. He wasn't the first person to give her such a hug, but it was nice when it felt like she was facing the brutality of the world alone. His voice was low, breath hot against her ear, and she smiled before she slipped away.
The guest room was prepared by one of her maids. Cleaned, dusted, new sheets and bed set. Eularia lit the room with candles, and waited in the window-seat. Whether she expected him to climb in through the window (honestly, how scandalous) or present himself to her servants and be taken to her, was unclear.
She had dressed down for the night, wearing a simple night-slip, barefooted, hair down from the tight bun she typically wore it in. This was almost like a transaction, than her nights with her husband. It was a distinct difference that she needed. The wild passion could come later; but it could not be how this night started. Not right now, while she had people searching every country for him. Not while she still held out hope.
02-24-2023, 10:51 AM
