☽ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☽
the lovers woven with blessed gold
windows of the soul behold
death appeased by lovers pain
bound and doomed to meet again
becoming one sealed with a kiss
the further apart death won't dismiss
☽ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☽
in which a thread of gold beg...
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☽ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ ☽
THE SMELL of coffee beans hung in the air. She heard the faint sounds of textbook pages turning, pencils scratching a seemingly endless string of notes on paper, frothing milk, and the faint chatter of conversations floating around the coffee shop.
She sat at an oak table in the corner of the cafe, her glasses sliding to the end of her nose making her have to readjust them every few moments. She was hunched over a sketchbook, shading in an architectural drawing of an intricately designed apartment building that she had due for a class in a few hours.
Internally, Diana realized that she didn't wear glasses. She also can't draw very well (unless you count cute stick figure drawings,) and she was definitely not enrolled in school for anything, let alone architecture. In fact, Diana doesn't recognize her surroundings at all. She can recognize that she's in a coffee shop in New York City, but based on the appearance of the interior decoration and the clothing style of everyone around her, including herself, her first thought was that she had been transported back into the '70s or '80s.
The sound of a cup hitting the table startled Diana out of her realization. "Hey."
Diana looked up, meeting the eyes of a very attractive individual. His eyes were milk-chocolate-colored brown that made the shape of a crescent moon when he smiled. His skin was smooth and the color of ivory. His chestnut-colored hair fell to his neck and framed his face beautifully. He was tall and lean and smelled of roasted coffee beans.
Diana felt herself give a tight-lipped smile, sliding the coffee cup towards herself. "Thanks." She tried to continue with her work but noticed that he was still standing there. She tried her best not to roll her eyes. "Can I help you?" His short but loud laugh was infectious, but for some reason, it pissed Diana off. She saw him cast his eyes down to her drawing.
"You're very good." Diana noticed a slight accent on the way he pronounced 'r.' "And very beautiful." He slid into the seat across from her.
"Thank you," Diana said through gritted teeth. "but I don't remember asking." That got another laugh out of him.
"What's your name?" He asked with that same charming smile. The one that made her insides burn in a way she could've confused with butterflies in her stomach.
"If I tell you, will you go away?"
"Possibly." He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated exhale. "Amara Buhle."
