Title : °{Noor e Mehtab} °
Translation : ||MOONLIGHT||
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•"If she knew fate would take such turn of events, she would have never stepped in the land where he roamed, never caught his eye and never faced him again"•
He was the Sardar from the...
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“If I ever see a flaw of yours, I'd say my eyes are the flawed ones”
_Mahmoud Darwesh_
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The peeking rays of morning sun arose from the horizon, resembling a thin gauze drape covering everything, it fell on the surroundings below, basking everything in it's unearthly aura.
The golden hues causing the blades of grass to glint and the dark canopies of trees to appear even more luscious, glinting in the most beautiful glossy shade of green.
Below the clear light blue sky devoid of any cloud, The two figures stood standing in the small clearing in between a dense cluster of trees that were throwing the shadows everywhere. The place was located at a little distance from the Dera.
The slightly blowing winds appeared like the gentle caresses hitting past one's frame making the hot weather appear slightly bearable.
With the blazing sun standing above, blinding others to no extent making it nearly impossible for them to raise their gazes and face it, The tall and muscular frame of the intimidating man stood firm with his chin inclined, head slightly tilted and one eye closed.
Soft breezes of wind sweeping across the atmosphere, raking past the luscious dark strands making the stray locks evade the grasp of his perfectly set and brushed back tresses, loosely falling on the unblemished forehead of his, playfully nudging the perfect and arrogant arch of his thick eyebrow.
Azeem's admiring and appreciative gaze swept upwards at the one opened eye of his sardar that was shielded by the the drape of long and voluminous canopy of raven feathers, standing above the ferocious and oh so piercing obsidian cups of his.
Than the appreciative and slightly intimidated gaze swept towards the strong finger of his sardar slid in the ring, an inch away from the trigger and finally stopping on the nozzle of the rifle as he gave it a last look before turning his admiring gaze towards the prey that was rushing past the densely packed forest appearing nothing but a hazy blur.
The strong hand of the brute loosely and almost painfully slow, caressed the lining of rifle from below, supporting it in the firm fearless grasp of his as the index finger of his other hand carelessly hung in the ring, slightly touching the trigger.
With his chin slightly tilted, and the blinding rays of sun illuminating the charcoal irises of his, making them appear almost pitch black, the luscious raven feathers casting shadows on his soft honey skin, the gaze of his focused on the blur figure of his prey as the hunter oh so unnoticeably and oh so subtly, kept moving the length of nozzle following the direction his prey took.
