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31_days2012-05-07 11:24 pm
avalonestel.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-05-07 11:24 pm
[MAY 7TH] [ORIGINAL] [BREEZE]
Title :: Breeze
Prompt :: May 7th, "days of mint and rain"
Series :: Original
Wordcount :: 193
Rating :: G (unless you consider knickers offensive)
Summary :: "She blows out all the candles in her room, clambers up onto her desk, and sits cross-legged in front of her window with a cup of mint tea in hand."
The air is heavy with rain on her skin and her voluminous robes. Carefully, she winds her knee-length hair into a large knot at the back of her head and sheds her clothing until she is only wearing her light, sleeveless undershirt and her white, ruffled knickers.
She blows out all the candles in her room, clambers up onto her desk, and sits cross-legged in front of her window with a cup of mint tea in hand. A breeze sends her curtains billowing and snakes cool, furtive ribbons over her bare shoulders, through the ragged clump of hair at the nape of her neck, too short to stay within the loose bun. She had chopped the handful off as a promise, an oath of silence. She runs her fingertips over the ebony letters etched into her skin beneath the strands, magicked there as part of that oath, binding her to that silence.
Soon, the lights will go out in the buildings outside. She sips at her tea and waits. Soon, the darkness will be full, and she will once more slip into it to dance with the shadows and the moonlight.
Prompt :: May 7th, "days of mint and rain"
Series :: Original
Wordcount :: 193
Rating :: G (unless you consider knickers offensive)
Summary :: "She blows out all the candles in her room, clambers up onto her desk, and sits cross-legged in front of her window with a cup of mint tea in hand."
The air is heavy with rain on her skin and her voluminous robes. Carefully, she winds her knee-length hair into a large knot at the back of her head and sheds her clothing until she is only wearing her light, sleeveless undershirt and her white, ruffled knickers.
She blows out all the candles in her room, clambers up onto her desk, and sits cross-legged in front of her window with a cup of mint tea in hand. A breeze sends her curtains billowing and snakes cool, furtive ribbons over her bare shoulders, through the ragged clump of hair at the nape of her neck, too short to stay within the loose bun. She had chopped the handful off as a promise, an oath of silence. She runs her fingertips over the ebony letters etched into her skin beneath the strands, magicked there as part of that oath, binding her to that silence.
Soon, the lights will go out in the buildings outside. She sips at her tea and waits. Soon, the darkness will be full, and she will once more slip into it to dance with the shadows and the moonlight.