n o v a (incomplete)

t h i r t y - e i g h t

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t h i r t y - e i g h t 

Nova rises with the sun.

Its presence is a rarity, disrupting winter's current reign of dimness and going against nature itself. It rises high, dominating the skies with a sudden surge of power, basking upon the thick hoards of clouds that clump together in confusion. Rays of light fall over the surface of their world, tinting the settled snow beneath with a pale glow.

A hue of yellow illuminates the room, which is now toned champagne, flooding through velvet curtains that have been drawn wide open, material tucked into hooks at either end, through the window glass and right over the bed. The waves of light are dazzling, holding some remnants of warmth that collides with the air. It isn't much, but it was all the sun could offer amidst winter.

It kisses the female currently entangled with silks sheets that are loose against her form, the grey material long having fallen to the curve of her hips and gathering, alongside the shirt and shorts she adorned.

She's curled up on her side, legs and arms exposed. Her deeply tanned skin is shimmery beneath this cast; her features are only highlighted with the caress of the sun, from the soft curves of her nose and jaw, to the pout of her lips and the lighter strands of hair from her crown and brows, only noticeable with this radiance.

Lashes are thick as they flutter, mocha pupils slow as they blink out of her oblivion. Even when she succeeds in defeating slumber, she remains motionless, resting her head against the pillow and simply lazing with what the morning had to offer, revelling in the warmth upon her. The female is completely still, apart from the gentle rise and fall to her chest.

For a moment Nova believes she's blessed with a moment of serenity, gifted a morning without perturbed thoughts that prick at her nerves, a time of peace for both mind and body.

That wasn't necessarily the case.

It's a haze that blurs in her head, nothing standing out or remotely making sense. It simply exists with a weighted pressure, one that conjugates in the centre of her head, which throbs as the buffered thoughts spin within her. It wasn't just the events of the night prior that nip at her, instead mirroring a tsunami that doesn't hesitate to destroy everything with it.

It's a strange sensation, her mind completely juxtaposing the state of her body, which is completely relaxed, limbs sinking into the sheets with utter bliss, eyes closed with the beat of the sun.

The female is so consumed with the whirlwind of her thoughts, that it takes her several minutes to even realise only she occupies the bed, the side to her left completely empty but holding a faint lingering musk, pungent with the morning. Her movements are light as she sits up, dazed eyes planted to her lap. Chocolate waves is pulled behind her neck, freezing in movement when spotting a figure in the cushioned chair in the very corner of the room.

Nova stills, a barely audibly breath hitching from the base of her throat. The front of her brows touch, wide eyes watching carefully as the fire in her mind suddenly ceases with one swift blow.

Her head tilts, lower lip pulled into her mouth as a rope tugs at her lower belly, a mass of flutters erupting from the lining.

Romaues must've been awake for a while.

The man currently sits with unruly, damp curls that remain wild and coarse on his head. His skin holds a sheen from the shower he'd taken earlier, broad form practically bulging beyond the frame of the chair. Dark ink is glossy with the brown of his skin. He adorns grey sweats and a black tee, knees spread. The lining of his stubbled jaw is taut, face stern and eyes brooding.