eldorne_girl | (no subject)

(no subject)

[being warm seems like a luxury after so long being cold, and being able to run around in bare feet and a singlet top seems almost sinfully nice]

[if Tortallans and Delia had a strong idea about 'sin', that is]

[leaving that aside, Delia is out in the greenhouse. It's night, but it's summer and so thus it's jeans and bare feet and a lavender top with spaghetti straps and a few layers of sheer, lovely fabric - Indy bought it for her, on their trip to London, but she doesn't think about that. Instead, she just walks through and trails her fingers against the flowers]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Josiane (layered fabrics, jewel tones, and one anklet in particular that chimes softly when she walks) does not attempt to conceal her passage trough the greenhouse. But she does lay a slim hand, cool fingered, across the back of Delia's neck, under the hot, heavy hair.

"Delia," quiet.

[Delia pauses, smiles, and doesn't turn around]

Josie.

Josie curls her fingers up into dark curls with an echoing smile, brief and sharp.

[Delia tilts her head back into the caress, and the smile widens]

One finger twists around a curl and tugs, just as sharp as that wicked little curl of her lips. "It's warm, here."

Hmmm, I noticed.

[Delia replies in her light, husky voice]

Josie laughs lightly and drops her hand, catching at a few rich strands, and wanders to a nearby planting bench. She picks a flower - something delicate, pale, white and green. She twirls the stem idly, brushing the fingers of the other hand roughly over the delicate petals.

"Of course you did."

[she turns when Josie drops her hand, a graceful movement that really needed a full skirt instead of jeans]

It's nice, being warm again.

"Hmm."

Josie loses interest in the flower, dropping it to the floor. Moves forward, crushing it under one delicate sandaled foot.

"Yes."

[softly]

Sorry if I scared you, though.

Josie's eyes flick lightly away before she looks back.

"You won't leave me."

[it might be a question, it might not, but Delia steps forward]

Never.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, maybe she believes her, maybe she doesn't.

"Never." And it's possessive, like the hand that snakes around the side of her neck, thumb bushing her jaw.

I won't.

[Delia insists]

"Don't," Josie commands, sweet but imperious. Her fingers tighten, just a fraction.

[she tilts her head up and leans in, just a little. No answer, but her bright-green eyes don't look away]

Darkening blue eyes equally intent, not dreamy or distracted for once. She leans forward that last fractio, lips brusing the shell of Delia's ear.

"Mine." It's little more than a breath.

Yours

[a whisper, low and husky and breathy]

"All," lips travelling across her cheek, "mine," breathed into her lips, "forever," lost into a kiss that is sweet despite it's sting, or perhaps because of it.

[she doesn't say yes because she can't, even the dead need air to speak out loud. But she moves closer and slides her hands onto Josie's hips, tilting her head up to deepen the kiss]

Josie hums lightly, satisfied, into the kiss, hands tangling in perfect darkly luxurious curls, because, really, they don't need to say anything.

[no, they don't. The kiss ends, as all kiss must, and Delia moves her head down, kissing Josie's throat lightly]

Josie makes a light crooning noise in the back of her throat, closing her eyes now. The hand not knotted hard into Delia's hair curves over a denim-clad hip.

[warm. Warm skin under her hot mouth, warm air around her and them and warm, flushed skin...]

[warm. Not alive, but not cold, so Delia opens her mouth and presses it over the main artery in Josie's neck. Element of danger, even thought she's not biting...

yet]

Josie sighs, and tips her head back, delicate skin taut over tight muscles, heartbeat pulsing faster against Delia's lips teeth tongue. Long delicate fingers slip under the waistband of Delia's jeans, long delicate(sharp) nails scratch against her skin.