[how mortal is she? ambrose has to wonder. she doesn't flaunt it, whatever it is she has; if it weren't for her relationship to dorian -- who is... choosy, to say the least, and the occasional scent of power drifting from her room, he would think she is so human. in the best ways, that witches can barely stand to think of, in their pernicious jealousy.]
Eh oui.
[what is it? sooner death and brighter joy? he doesn't like to think so. but he does like the compliments. he grins down at her, feeling pretty because she says so, sated. her frame is startlingly small, denuded and pale in the shadow of his bigger, brown shoulders. you wouldn't think so, in the corsets and regal blacks she tends to favor when fully dressed.
he should get his dick out of her, probably. but he's procrastinating. his body doesn't feel too tender, and it feels -- artistic, the symmetry of her spread hair mirrored in her thighs.]
I intend to advance to a higher course of study, though. Don't think me reticent.
no subject
Eh oui.
[what is it? sooner death and brighter joy? he doesn't like to think so. but he does like the compliments. he grins down at her, feeling pretty because she says so, sated. her frame is startlingly small, denuded and pale in the shadow of his bigger, brown shoulders. you wouldn't think so, in the corsets and regal blacks she tends to favor when fully dressed.
he should get his dick out of her, probably. but he's procrastinating. his body doesn't feel too tender, and it feels -- artistic, the symmetry of her spread hair mirrored in her thighs.]
I intend to advance to a higher course of study, though. Don't think me reticent.