Delia actually whimpered at Alanna's rough, angry kiss; so much anger, so much frustration...oh, she knew Alan would be like this. Alan. Alanna. Now the kisses were gentle, soft, but that was ok as Delia stepped closer and curled her arm around the small of Alanna's back.

Her tira felt heavy now, so heavy, and absently she reached up to pull it out of her hair and throw it the ground with the rose and the masks. "Don't think then," she whispered huskily. "Don't think, don't think speak, just kiss me."