Brelione//DruigxOC

love, love and more love

guess who's back in their writing game
it's me!! this chapter is a little short, shorter than usual but next chapter is gonna be long and very very good.

weeks are only minutes, minutes that add up to hours. and before i know it, months roll forward and pull me along. the sunsets fall more captivating, music of chimes tap against my ears as flowers pull from the earth, orange and blue, white and tall, far beyond the size of me. everything looks as if it belongs to a giant, carrots the size of dogs. ikaris nicknamed me alice, he says that if id leave the land and come to the towns i'd get the reference, but he's more than willing to fill me in. he notes that they act different, the humans.

how they seem to understand the ancient language of silent hands, how they hold fruits as if they are gold. and i cannot help but think it is by druig's doing, something that he's always wanted to do, reprimanded and warned time and time again. but with rules crumbled and stomped on and made into a fine dust, villages gaining memory and appreciation through control is nothing but some simple news. years ago it would've been the talk of the home, an outrage, monumental! but now, now it's just another thing brushed under the carpet. the water sits at my thighs, animals gathering to the glittering dimension as my hands bring food to their mouths.

and though they eat simple berries, the creatures mouth is stained blood like a silky monster from a horror novel. hands dipping under the water to cleanse them of the juice, the bears begin to retreat to their homes. "you never fail to impress me,"he calls from behind, hands on my shoulders. i swear, every time he touches me it falls heavier. a pressure that builds up like a spark to a flame, i let out a low breath at the feeling. it's relaxing in a way, his hands moving to take my face, lifting my chin up and planting a kiss on my forehead.

if i close my eyes, i could swear he was druig. the mannerisms, the scent, the way he sits is all too much. it's like he strides to be a carbon copy of him. he pulls me from my heaven, pulling like a rope as i hit the ground to real life, looking up at him. he hums, kissing my nose gently with a grin as he looks back to the sky, clouds in a battle as they pass eachother. my body moves through the water, end of my skirt wet and sheer as he brings his body to a dramatic bow, holding out his hand.

"m'lady." he whispers, a voice so low that it only falls to such a tone when he's resisting a laugh. which is, well, it's not fulfilling. he doesn't let himself enjoy things as i wish he would, it's cause he knows every moment will come to an end. i guess that's why there's always a pang of depression behind every one of his actions. a blanket as soft as a baby angels feathers, blue, deep and beautiful like the ocean, swallowing us up like it too. the biggest contrast comes by the light basket, one in complete mess and splintering that makes it clear it was created by his hands.

"i brought your favorite," he says it with such distaste that one may think my favorite treat consists of the heads of children. diving for the basket, i find what i'm in search of, strawberry dough. i suppose humans could get sick from it as their stomachs can handle nothing, but me? well, i'll enjoy raw dough for all of the planet. it's rosy, sweet color shines through thin paper, peeled back by my fingertips. he lets out a chuckle, never a laugh, light clicking as plates arise from the depths of the basket, and coming along is rosemary bread, cheese and grapes, crackers, apple slices.

and finally, a bottle of wine, large and beautiful. pinching the dough, i find a perfect bit, slipping into my mouth. it's sweet and tart, dissolving beautifully. it's rich and light and simply delicious, a sigh of ecstasy flows into the air. "i want to give it another try,"he says, leaning upwards, eyes pulled shut as his lungs fill with air. "i think it's the rawness that throws me off,"i cannot help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounds, stripped out of context it would sound horrific.

his eyes snap back open, trying desperately to find what could be funny, playing his words along his mind once more before a smile finally blossoms on his face. i've always thought he had a beautiful smile, even before all this. creases on his eyes, they fall near shut as his face paints itself pink. he always tries to stop smiling though he never can, it reminds me so very much of thena and gowns. a dear love for them, looking magnificent though she fears people will think less of her, perceive her as less powerful.