#amayla

[twsted-princess]

Soooooooooooooo I made a list back oh............eight months ago. About Melanie and her supposed harem, yeah it got worse. Time for a remake!!

Of course tagging everyone cause ya'll are the reason I breath: @shinsen-haruki @fumikomiyasaki @terrovaniadorm @rookvonhunt @thetwstwildcard @sakuramidnight15 @vivaresmala @silent-dragon @multydoodles @ellovett @the27th @hades-eternal @forestwispocs @hey-its-cweepy @fullplaidponydreamer @vale-ocs-roleplay @oseathepebble @another-twisted-wonderland-fan @sparrow-20 @windbornearchon @starry-night-rose and @wanou-dorm

Good lad (nongendered): Komali, Bonbon, Tyler, Fabio, Sylva, Lennox, Octavius, Lucifer, Jupiter, Michi, Misha, Jirou, Erza, Fraiser, Vladimir, Maurice, Dusk, Brick, Midas, Philip, Celadon, Fredinand, Tobias, Bora, Lee, Florence, Kevin, Adore, Kevin, Regan, Adam, Freya, Buka, Eduardo, Benedict, Hassan, Yuu-Mun, Nereus, Jasper, Catherine, Nasira, Pyxis, Rasalas, Lustre, Tén, Magnus, Kimon, Holton, Adrian, Daido, Amayla, Frey, Shima, Namor, Ajax, Nauwe, Darcy, Midge, Hyacinth, Artemis, Kurama, Anya, Noa

A little kooky: Kumo, Gabirelle, Citron, Ruben, Micah, Song Fenhua, Emile, Arsene, Derrick, Johan, Juno, Marcos, Emmett, Lynette, Naya, Tahanii, Deidra, Lacie, Lovette, Ezra, Kiara, Eric, Sin, Sigurd, Ciro, Sylvain, Saphira, Mika, Roya, Minnie, Jacob, Kala, Marimus,

Oh you're just fucked up: Kierron, A'rachk, Kakia, Candice, Langley, Solomon, Miko, Cervos, Mars, Mo-Lain, Carmine, Sue, Achilles, Tatius, Anisha, Casimir, Cattleya, Veil, Isidoros, Jinrou, Mizuki, Galland

[stellarcheetah]

Untitled

An unfinished song written for an unfinished love that came on four little paws and was wrapped in a coat of white fur. By Amayla Drake aka “StellarCheetah.” --------------------------------------------

Cold winter nights, hot summer days Whether here or far away It doesn’t change the fact that I still love you

Now you don’t greet me at the door No sound of feet on hardwood floor There’s just a you-shaped hole inside my heart I keep your picture by my bed Your voice still rings inside my head But I’d give anything to tell you that I love you

Cold winter nights, hot summer days Whether here or far away It doesn’t change the fact that I still love you

Now you don’t clean tears off my face Or steal the last bites off my plate And somehow I just have to be okay No more hugs and no more kisses No more plans and no more wishes But I’d give anything to tell you that I love you

Cold winter nights, hot summer days Whether here or far away It doesn’t change the fact that I still lost you

And loss is just the price I pay For having loved you every day Since the moment that I laid my eyes on you Another day, another dawn I wake up here, and still you’re gone But I’d give anything to tell you that I love you

If I had known that love’d hurt some day I would have loved you just the same But cherished every moment all the more If I had known how fast time flies How quickly hi becomes goodbye I would have held you tighter in my arms

Are you waiting up in heaven for me now?

[allcreatureswarehouse]

Discover Your One-Stop Pet Shop in Carrum Downs: All Creatures Warehouse

Introduction:

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Expert Advice and Guidance:

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Conclusion:

If you're looking for a pet shop in Carrum Downs that offers top-quality products, expert advice, professional grooming services, and community engagement opportunities, look no further than All Creatures Warehouse. With their extensive range of pet supplies, knowledgeable staff, and commitment to customer satisfaction, All Creatures Warehouse is your trusted partner in pet care. Visit their store today and experience the difference for yourself

Click Here For More Information : https://allcreatureswarehouse.com.au/#animals

Contact Us For More Information

Phone Number: 03 9786 2885

Email : allcreatureswarehouse@outlook.com

Address : 2/2 Amayla Cresent Carrum Downs Vic. 3201

[onemoresong]

Ay ben bir şeyler söylemeye geldim.

Hepimizin nasıl insanlar olduğu sorguya tamamen açık ve ben hala iyi kötü sıfatlarından hoşlanmıyorum ne insanlar ne hayat siyah beyaz değil. Sadece şunu biliyorum ki ben çoğu zaman elimden geleni yaptım. Yapamadığım zamanlar için çok pişmanım genelde, farkındaysam. Üzgünüm keşke herkesin yanında olabilseydim olmam gereken zamanlarda. Ya da telafi esebilsem.

Ama şuna da çok sinirliyim , o kadar ki cümleye amayla başlamak bile gıcık etti beni. Benim için kim bunu düşündü? Beş bin yıl sonra gelen özür güzel ama benim size o özür geldiğinde davrandığım gibi davranmanız için ne olması lazımdı ya? Benim re arkadaşlarıma ihtiyacım vardı bok gibi geceler yaşadığımda. Bana iyi geleceğini bildiğim beni bilen insanlara ihtiyacım vardı. Ben yine kimseye arkamı dönmeyeceğim ama sinirimi de atamıyorum. Çok istedim çok ihtiyâç duydum arkadaşlarıma. Şimdi mi? Şimdi sizin ihtiyacınız varken mi geliyor aklınıza bir sena vardı demek. O kadar kafam gidiyor ki sinirden ikiye bölünüp özerklik kazanacak sanki öfkem. Nerdeydiniz ya nerde

[kytra-and-tryder]

Dark Side Switch 1

“We’ve overlooked your slights before, Flynn, but this is too far”. 

A lone Jedi stood stiffly in the middle of the Council chambers. Though he kept his gaze down respectfully, he clenched his teeth, frustrated. The setting sun streamed through the windows, lighting the sparse room with an orange glow as the verdict was handed down. 

“Though we do not wish to officially exile you, we can no longer sanction your actions. You will be… promoted… to a Jedi Sentinel, and assigned a portion of the Outer Rim. As part of this lifelong commitment, you will not be permitted to return to Coruscant, nor take a Padawan. You will depart for Nar-Shadaa tomorrow.”

His fate had been long since decided, and he knew it. Jedi Masters strode past him as the session was dismissed, most talking quietly on their way to eat or meditate. One stopped in front of him, and looked at him for a moment. “Tryder, I know that sometimes you disagree with the Council on… certain matters, but there comes the time when their authority needs to be respected. You should have learned that long ago.” With that, he retreated as well, leaving the new exile alone as the sun set around him.

The next day dawned, finding Tryder at the spaceport with a small pack and only enough credits for a long-distance fare and a few hot meals. 

The Chiss felt out of place here; even at this early hour the port bustled with the comings and goings of thousands of lifeforms. The vaulted roofs might have felt airy once, but caked as they were in hundreds of years of exhaust from millions of starships, the effect was that of a perpetual gloom. Tryder sighed and shouldered his pack. He peered at his ticket in confusion; spaceships were not his specialty and the listed cruiser was of a type he’d never even heard of before. A familiar voice cut through his perplexion.

“Tryder!”

“Amalya? Is that you?”

“What did you do to piss off the council now, you nerf-herder? I heard they were exiling you!”

“Well… that’s not quite what--”

“Look I KNEW you were dumb but I didn’t think you were THAT dumb, not after the last time they nearly kicked you out for trying to tell the younglings that all power corrupts and the Jedi are only better because --”

“Look we don’t need to talk about that right now.” Flynn cut her off hurriedly. “Why are you here?”

“I know you’re always so aloof and self-reliant, but you’re still a person, and people need companions. So I got you a droid!”

Sure enough, following behind the Twi’lek was a stout astromech, who beeped warily at Flynn. Flynn shot a look at his friend. Then, with a sigh, he crouched to inspect the blue and copper droid.

“His name is T9-09,” Amalya provided. T9-09 gave an affirmative chirp, and then a questioning tone; his head rotated to watch Tryder as he gave the droid a once-over. 

Finally, the Chiss stood. Amayla watched her friend expectantly until Tryder finally gave in. 

“Fine, I’ll take him.” The Twi’lek nearly squealed and grabbed her friend in a sudden hug; he blinked and followed up with “He better not slow me down, though,” to hide the smile that fought its way towards the surface. Tryder pulled away after a moment. “I gotta get going, my shuttle to Nar-Shaddaa leaves pretty soon.” He hefted his pack and turned to leave.

T9-09 gave another “whoo?” as Tryder took a few paces away. Tryder turned and looked at the droid; it rolled anxiously backwards and forwards a bit, waiting for commands. “Well, are you coming or what?” T9-09 gave an excited chirp and eagerly followed Tryder, who gave Amayla a quick wave before he vanished into the crowd of the spaceport. 

[2003srhx]

From Amayla. 🖤

[themarginalartist]

Scribbles of OCs and attempt at a mer

[marginal-art]

I dunno, at this point I’m just trying to fill pages in my sketch book.

[drawstoria]

If tdp was the office featuring Aunt Amaya and viren, this would be the grave scene

[cecil-the-nutcracker]

[sparklebitch]

Still, you’ve been disowned

i’m sorry please let me stay i love my garbage boy too muc h

[lucaslovesfanarts]

When the show you just watch has beautiful,amazing, lovable, and adorkable characters but you can’t decide who’s your favorite

(I’m seriously in love with the Dragon Prince HALP)

[allcreatureswarehouse]

All Creatures Warehouse: Hand Reared Birds Melbourne

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At All Creatures Warehouse, we take pride in providing top-quality hand-reared birds that are lovingly raised and well-socialized. Our experienced team of bird experts ensures that each bird receives the care and attention it needs to thrive in its new home.

Whether you're a seasoned bird lover or a first-time bird owner, we have the perfect feathered companion for you. From colorful parrots to melodious canaries, our hand-reared birds come in a variety of species and personalities to suit every preference.

In addition to our hand-reared birds, All Creatures Warehouse also offers a wide range of bird care supplies, including cages, toys, food, and accessories. We are committed to providing everything you need to create a happy and healthy environment for your avian friends.

Shop our selection of hand-reared birds in Melbourne at All Creatures Warehouse and experience the joy of bird ownership today! Contact us to learn more about our available birds and adoption process.

Click Here For More Information : https://allcreatureswarehouse.com.au/hand-reared-birds-melbourne/

Contact Us For More Information

Phone Number : 03 9786 2885

Email : allcreatureswarehouse@outlook.com

Address: 2/2 Amayla Cresent Carrum Downs Vic. 3201

[onemoresong]

Kime neyi anlattığımı bilmeyerek cümleler kurmayı seviyor gibiyim kendimi sürekli burada bulduğuma göre. Çoğu zaman da yayınlamıyorum siliyorum ama, amayla başlayan anlamsız cümleler kurmanın da verdiği bir rahatlık var ki vazgeçemiyorum. Tam böyle anlaşılır gibi olduğum bir aralık vardı, o kadar kısa sürdü ki kendimle bile bağımı kaybettim. Duygusalız falan ama bunun da ötesinde bir şeyler. Geçen bir film izledim, karakter hayatını yoluna koyup kendini attı sonra, hah işte bu tam da öyle bir mesele. Belini doğrultsan da o ağırlığın getirdiklerini unutmama meselesi. Ben bu hafızayı da çözemiyorum, kendime işkence etmek için varoluyormuşum gibi bir durum

[helloiamausacresfan]

Amayla Lyle Kearse (born 1937) was the first Black woman shortlisted for the SCOTUS, in 1979.

[qhostqizmo]

The Flirt and The Jealous

me, praying To The Gods Amayla does not assault me-

-----

-----

He had a thousand watt smile bright enough to light up a room, but a brain the size of a pea, Essätha reasoned. Money could buy this wealthy aristocrat his many trinkets, his glittering gold bangles, and the shining gemstones decorating those shimmering rings on his fingers; but they weren’t going to buy him the ability to comprehend the atmosphere around him. Unable to read the room or grasp reality, he outstretched his his hands with purpose to reveal his jewelry and flaunt his expensively embroidered vibrant blue-dyed fabrics and gesture to his paintings, the architecture of his home, his vases and oddments.

The sorceress didn’t much care; zoning in and out, that this particular rug was four-hundred years old and made by a blind priestess in the mountains of Etheron. Nevertheless, the man continued to eagerly boast the accomplishments of his many generations of family legacy in collecting these assortments. It sounded less and less like achievements hard-earned, and more and more like a silver-spoon lineage.

“Master Mévouifulin, I appreciate the tour of your enchanting home, but-”

“My dear Miss Essätha, you may call me Arcamend,” they cut off with a twirl of their hand. “But yes, I appreciate your adoration for my treasured family home. Now, if you’ll follow me-”

“Sir,” she stressed, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes or yawn of boredom. The Yuan-Ti woman stepped forward, blocking the heir’s locomotive urgency to continue full-steam ahead.

He frowned at her, truly baffled. “My apologies, madame. If these things do not interest you, perhaps you would like to see the bedrooms? You’ll find the guest quarters are adequate, but the imported silk sheets in my room are quite luxurious and fitting of royalty. If you’d like a chance to examine them closer…”

Essie stared blankly in response to the odd statement; the man’s casual playful smirk completely missing their charm and mark. She gave a shake of her head, sighing.

“I’m sure they’re all lovely Master Arcamend, and I am grateful for your willingness to spend your time with me, but I’m afraid I’m a bit pressed for time. You mentioned you would show me to your impressive private library, if I recall? Could we perhaps go there next?”

“Private indeed,” Arcamend agreed with a lided gaze that swept over her features. He rested his big stupid brown eyes on hers after a fumbled step on his expensive carpet in a sad attempt to do a casual lean against a sidetable. She wondered how the man had managed to lose his footing staring into her eyes all doopey; perhaps the weaving had bunched up in the middle somewhere and caught on his boot?

“Alright,” she stated; cautious. “Lead on, if you’d please.”

“Right,” he stalled slowly. “I could have a servant fetch us a nice merlot; would you fancy some cheeses while we read? I could get you the finest gaperon you’ve ever had, or perhaps you would like boursin blue cheese with some pepper crackers?”

How insufferable could one gentleman be, Essätha pondered. Did he not get the hint that they were going into a library, a place usually reserved for peace and quiet, not for snacks and beverages to be knocked over and stain precious rare copies of literature? Did he not see that she was pressed for precious time, and did not wish to spend any of it on him where possible?

And how did he not see how incredibly obnoxious and pompous he was behaving? As if rubbing it into everyone’s noses how many rare and exotic things he owned was going to make him more interesting or likable? She had half a mind to grab Arcamend by the earlobe and drag him out to the streets, and take him to the nearest shelter where the luckier homeless went for temporary food and shelter. Not that it would matter, she reasoned; anyone that full of themselves would probably spend the whole time clutching to their things fearful of dirt rubbing on them or believing that a little thief may snatch their pearls.

Well, perhaps she would get some dark amusement out of either of the two happening, anyway.

The sorceress cleared her throat, politely folding her hands in front of her abdomen as she murmured; speaking as if to a child, “If it would not be too much trouble, Master Arcamend, I would like to be alone. It will make my work quicker, and more efficient. Your library follows the standard dewey decimal classification, I presume? I will be in and out of your hair, no troubles at all… Unless you feel as though you need send any of your attendants to watch over me, just to make sure I do not damage nor take any of your belongings.”

As she spoke, she watched as the wealthyman began to deflate like a balloon. Whatever was bringing him down, she couldn’t put her finger to. Disappointment for his conduct, she prayed. Still, her final remark seemed to cause him the most discomfort at all; a flush of color warming his face as Arcamend ruffled a hand through his bronze colored locks.

“I- no of course not I- meant nothing by it- I mean-”

Essie quirked an eyebrow.

Shoulders slumping, Arcamend heaved a heavy exhale, reaching as though to take her hand. “Miss Essätha, I meant no harm to an outstanding and delightful woman such as yourself. Please, allow me to reconcile this atrocity I’ve brought to your honor.”

She stepped forward, just out of his arm’s reach. “I care not for what you meant, Master Arcamend; I care for what I came here for. I do not want to take up any more of you day or your staff’s than necessary, and would like to return to my companions as soon as possible. They need me.”

“O-of course, madame, whatever pleases you,” the elitist mumbled, “I will show you the way. My humblest apologies.”

When she did not respond, the man strode forward with a pouty lip to lead the way down the elaborately decorated passage. The Yuan-Ti woman huffed, blowing a few stray curls out of her face, and moved to follow; careful of the carpet. What a childish prat, she thought with sincere sympathy. To grow up with more coin than you ever had need or want for, and then to spend it on such nonsense without recourse or care. He never had to lift a finger; never had to struggle, to fight, or even leave his cozy home if he so desired.

What a lonely, miserable existence.

It hit her, then, like a strike of Magic Missiles. Perhaps the poor man was destitute. That would explain the clingy, needy, chatty mannerisms. She’d pity him if he wasn’t so annoying, and she wasn’t so uncomfortable. Usually her commiserative ways and gentle heart lead her to easily bending and stretching for a moment to help the weary, the broken, the lost and the hurting; but in this case, she felt a surprising amount of nothing.

Swallowing, the sorceress gazed up from the floor that she had been glued to to see that the rich snob had stopped before a looming set of doors. He pushed it open before her, revealing indeed a vast wealth of knowledge. Books upon books in neatly aligned shelves and rows; tall enough that it required a mobile ladder to traverse to the top shelves.

Her heart nearly swooned.

And then she looked to Arcamend; so miserable he could not catch her eye. Finding a bit of remorse returned to her, she reached out to touch the man’s forearm.

“Thank you so very much for your assistance, Master Arcamend.”

The man once more began a beacon of light so radiant she almost had to squint to look upon him. Grinning from ear to ear, he retrieved her hand from his skin to press a humble kiss to her knuckles.

“It is my utmost pleasure to serve you, Miss Essätha. Could I get you anything at all? Or perhaps you would like me to walk you through the archive, and I can help you look? Or explain to you the history of how my family collected-”

And just like that, her compassion for the man was gone with the slimy feeling of his sweaty palm clutching helplessly to her fingers, and the moisture of his lips on her hand; the feeling of his breath bathing her skin. Her insides curled; a far-away memory being clutched at by the ghostly hands of her thoughts. Rough hands, and warm breath dancing against her, and dark, dark eyes…

She snatched her hand away a bit roughly.

“Thank you again, Master Arcamend but no thank you; I can take it from here.”

As though she owned the very estate she walked on, the sorceress stepped confidently into the library.

“V-Very well-” Arcamend called, moving as though to follow her. “And if a little dove shall require anything-”

Essätha turned to close the door right into the aristocrat’s face, thumping her forehead against it with a silent gasp of relief as she heard the muffled voice stall and fizzle out on the other side. Her gaze, slowly, turned upon the true vast wealth the man had at his disposable in the enormity of his collection. The sunlight coming from an upper balcony window sparkled in the golden sunshine hues of her iris.

At least now she could enjoy some silence, with something far more interesting than Arcamend Mévouifulin.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~

Blowing a raspberry, the Yuan-Ti woman flopped backwards onto the bed with a final exasperated huff. “Honestly m’lord- you wouldn’t believe how incredibly obnoxious one man could be!”

A soft chuckling answered her. “Oh, I’m sure I can imagine.”

Lifting her head, Essätha looked over to see her nobleman; shed down to his tunic and trousers alone, sitting on the edge of mattress and looking directly over his shoulder at her. Her heart did cartwheels beneath that warm regard held in the depth of those ocean-hued eyes. She loved how he smiled at her most of all though; not just with his lips, but how the entirety of his face grew relaxed and soft as he looked at her. She had to wait to catch her breath until he turned back to untying his rather large boots.

“S-Seriously, the man gloated the entire time,” she vented. “He came to check up on me almost every ten minutes; I thought about barricading the doors!”

“Sounds difficult when you’re busy reading.”

“Exactly! I’ve seen pride, and I’ve seen vanity, but this Arcamend fellow was a level of ego I could not wrap my head around. And this was only after I had to try, numerous times, to get his attention and remind him I was there for his library. All he wanted to do was parade me around like a young pup on a leash, showing me around to all his big, glistening, expensive knick-knacks. ‘This was owned be so-and-so who was once held a seat of the Council’ this and ‘my sheets are made of silk spun from the hairs of an angel’ that… More or less.”

“… Did he, now?” Amon murmured slowly; hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Essie responded; growing equally cautious now hearing the unease in his voice. “Presented me to his ‘secluded secrecy's’, like I was already showing any interest in his sculptures, he felt the need to take me to his gallery room. I mean, the craftsmanship of the paintings and mediums was nice, but how many people find it logical to have a room dedicated solely to paintings and a single sofa made of some rare fabric? How often are you going to go in there, if not to show off that you can have a room dedicated just to paintings? With a sofa you refuse to even sit on, or allow guests to sit on?”

This time her nobleman grunted, setting aside his footwear.

The sorceress swallowed anxiously, rolling on to her side to reach out for him. “… I’m not upsetting you about all of this, am I?”

“Hmm? Why would I be upset?”

“I-” her face warmed, and she glanced away. “I don’t want to sound like I’m picking on the guy just because he’s… loaded with coin.”

A hand blanketed on top of hers; worn and calloused. A flutter emerged inside her, and she felt like she was floating as her gaze moved up, trapped instantly in the softness of Amon’s soothing gaze.

“No, Essie, I don’t think you’re releasing your frustrations because Master Mévouifulin happens to be rich.”

Her brow knit. “Then why the… unresponsiveness. You usually love talking to me.”

Her smile was mirrored in his own expression. “I do love talking with you.”

“Then…?”

The Bearmaster licked his lips nervously. Gradually, he turned to face her, taking her hand in both of his own to give a careful squeeze.

“… His arrogance is not something new to me,” her nobleman began. “It is something easy to fall into. Even I have shamed myself by wanting to appear more larger than life; extravagant events, large parties, venues; wanting to show off my abilities and skill with what I had, what I killed, what I could afford. He has growing still to do, if he wishes to better himself as an individual rather than an accessory to money. Luckily I had great teachers; time, humility, embarrassment, Marie, and… you.”

She felt the blushing feeling in her face intensify beneath the fond way that he looked at her; the way he cradled her hand between his own. It was entrancing; intoxicating, the man could rip away all her thoughts, all her fears, her worries, her past. All she ever saw; all she ever felt when she was with him, was the here and now. Experiencing the joy of just belonging in the same space as him. The comfort he exuded in his understanding and compassion. The ease of his presence; the way he made her feel secure and confident and wanted. There was no before, and there was no future to worry about, as long as she knew he would be there.

There was no place on the planet, and no time, she would rather be at than this. To have him hold to her hand and to see those tender eyes. To be the one to witness him smile; genuine and kind, it did things to her she could not describe. Of all the treasures she ever longed for, she never would have dreamed he would be the only one she’d ever come to crave so deeply that nothing else in the known universe mattered or compared. Not even by a thousand miles. She’d give up her very last breath, for him.

Amon cleared his throat after a moment, and let go of her hand. His posture stiffened as he informed her, gazing away: “I do not think that Master Mévouifulin was simply showing you these things to make himself look better or more successful, Ess’. Clearly he wanted you to think well of him and to be impressed, but I think his intention was to… flirt with you. Terribly, it seems. I think he wanted to show you the things he could get and afford and… perhaps to show you an example of how comfortable a life with him could be.”

A hush fell over the room. It seemed as though everything was muffled; even the sound of Caesar’s groans as the mastiff flopped over with a bored huff. The sorceress could see the strain in the muscles on her nobleman’s face. His knuckles were bone-white clutching to the sheet, and his jaw and throat moved at random as though he was clutching his teeth and swallowing deeply.

Essätha remained quiet for a while longer, absorbing this suggestion. It was utterly… absurd. And yet the almost comical desire for him to remain attached to her side; to show her everything, to even suggest his bedroom upon his sheets of all things as a place to mingle… It wasn’t that far-fetched, when she really bothered to see the obvious slides right in front of her.

Finally; with annoyance, she grumbled: “Does he think I haven’t seen a plate before?”

Her nobleman turned to stare at her, his mouth agape at the amount of exasperation still in her tone. She didn’t even have the time to meet his shocked expression, busily drawing her hand in the air to theatrically show her vexation.

“I mean really, his idea of wooing a lady is to show her his old plate held on the wall that was painted? Or his sheer curtains made of lace that require special washing? If he wanted to impress me he could start by showing me how gracious and generous he can be; not by how much crap he owns. He could do more to prove that he is kind, and warm, and thoughtful, and intelligent, and loyal, and funny…”

As she spoke, Essie’s eyes finally captured Amon’s astonished gawking inspection. Her rosy cheeks; which felt like they had only just finally simmered down, heated up once more. She found it incredibly difficult to draw air into her lungs until she could bare to look upon his eyes any further, and glanced shyly away with a shiver dancing down her spine.

“… Or that he could protect my heart,” she finished in the smallest, softest voice imaginable; looking to the bedspread. Her pulse had accelerated a hundredfold in a split second, the image of one man appearing every time she blinked behind her eyelids. If she could only turn her head and look at him in the face without giving away everything; everything inside her. How she wanted, how she craved, what she’d give for just a chance with him, even brief. Even just a moment to taste the reality of calling him hers.

So engrossed in the throw-blanket, she could not see the yearning in the man’s gaze that was so breathless enraptured just watching her. Suffering in his yearning; tongue-tied in his hunger but unwilling to yield to it. Oh he ached for her in more ways and words than and language, dead or recent, could describe; in a burning nature that was beyond rational or expression, past reasoning or primal thirsts for things. He desired her in a way that was profound in realms few rarely got to touch; in styles of art written about and few experienced, as though two souls were bound to each other invisibly by choice as much as fate.

As she could not help obsessing about the shape of his lips and how they may taste in her thoughts, his own were following the exact same trail of rational as his regard dropped to her mouth and then roamed all around what he saw as golden perfection. The vision of an angel.

It was not courage that brought Essätha back to the presence of the now; it was the gravity relaxing between them, the urgency to climb into him that subsided enough that she could look to him without grabbing for his collar and begging him to love her, and to kiss her that allowed it. Still his eyes mesmerized her just the same. They’d been waiting for her, after all. It still gave a the rhythm of her heart a new song to play, but she liked it.

“I could never fall for someone as blind and careless and dull as Arcamend Mévouifulin,” the sorceress concluded firmly.

Amon licked his lips, spellbound to her luminous beholding. Her every work had sunk into him; aspirations to live by, things to do. She was writing him a list to lead by without her knowing, and one that he desired to live by; little knowing it was all that she already saw in him and more.

“You… You are much to good for him.”

Essie smirked a bit tightly, raising her browline. She had hoped for a moment that maybe her nobleman might…

No, she should be careful of her heart and its wanting. This was virgin territory; a frightening realm. Her heart was delicate; never offered, always behind a barrier. She shouldn’t expect much, and yet…

“I am, aren’t I?”

She watched, wanting to once more drag her fingers into his hair and pull him in to her lips as his expression collapsed into one nothing short of pure admiration.

“You’re too good for this world and everyone in it, but I know you can do better than him.”

So much better. She drew the tip of her tongue across her lips reflexively, wishing the lingering taste of his mouth was on her own.

“I suppose he’ll just need to find a new dame to impress with his nude marble figures and lavish sheets then, mm?”

To her great delight, her nobleman gave a throaty laugh of amusement. It was a deep and liberal sound; so free and hearty and delightfully homey. She loved it. She loved everything about him.

“Good luck to the both him and his figures, hopefully they do not go sliding off the bed.”

Stifling her giggles entirely proved impossible. Essie sat up a little to swat against his shoulder lightly, falling into his side.

“You’re terribly naughty.”

He gave her a grin; albeit a bit anxious. “But you like me anyway.”

“I very much do, m’lord,” she agreed; swiftly and without a drip of hesitation. Her arms found their way around him, wrapping tight as she squeezed herself perfectly into the dip of his pelvis bone and up into his scapula, she she could rest her chin along the nook of his shoulder. It was a perfect angle to view up into his face, and watch as his cheeks turned pink and flush.

Amon wormed his arm free to wrap around her side. He folded towards her; ending up resting his bearded chin upon the crown of her head so she could nestle her face against his collarbone instead.

“I like you, too.” Gruff; raspy, as though he was whispering a secret into the black waves of her hair.

She hummed, clinging to him a little tighter as he turned further into the bed to be able to grasp her fully and pull her into chest. Right back into the home she wanted to be in. Right where she felt like she was meant to always be.

It would have to be enough, for now.