( he blushes, teased, but happy for it, acting the part of an abruptly feral animal to snuffle and snort at her, bending down and nipping at her cheek. it's easy them, to bully alina onto her back, paul maneuvering like a warm breeze over dunes to slide between her legs, propped up on his knees, catching kettlewing by his back before he can splash hot soup all over alina and the bed. the bird gets resettled against her side, paul shrugging while he positions her knees on his hips, caging him in. )
Maybe. Well — not running away, but changing your mind is allowed. It's still allowed.
( hands curve over her bony knees, sliding down the tops of her freckled thighs, landing at her hips, loosely covered by lazy sleep shorts. paul edges up the hem of his sweatshirt, just enough to stroke his thumbs against her stomach, wondering if he might be able to cash in his learning ravkan reward now, after all. well — nowish. first things first. )
You know ... Okay. Imagine a hard-boiled egg. ( he gives her a look. ) Just stick with me. You know, if you push your thumb against it, there's some give, but when you take your thumb away there's no imprint. In this case, your mind is the hard boiled egg, and my memory is the thumb. It'll fill a gap, long enough for both of us to see it, and when it ends, it'll just be you again. ( cozying down, he props his chin up between her breasts, weight distributed down her middle, a little like an oversized cat finding the most comfortable and inconvenient spot to lounge on. ) Okay?
( not distinctly true — for one, alina would liken her brain to a soupy broth, at the moment, overheated from fever. for another, cracking open her skull runs the risk of having it all pour out into the basin of his palms, alina-shaped chunks flavored with — something more, something other. it's never been just her, alone in her head; even now, she can sense the hum of the amplifiers, a constant static she barely notices anymore. the seawhip coiled defensively around her brainstem, filled with righteous anger. morozova's stag looms watchfully, a protective guardian in the sacred grove of her thoguhts.
not for the first time, she finds herself grateful she's a pliant puddle of limbs under paul's lean body. less of a risk their minds clash rather than meld like a runny yolk. she squirms and stretches up into him, spurts of puffy exhales at his fingers teasing the ticklish skin of her belly, dangling in that dreamy void between sleepiness and consciousness. lazily, her toes dangle and draw down the backs of his legs, a softspun hum in her throat. a finger trails down the bridge of his nose, tapping freckles in her mental count. one, two, three, before she loses focus and has to start the process again. )
I don't mind you in my gaps. ( pun intentional, judging from the bleary, tranquil smile on her face. it's nice thought, isn't it? to be filled in all places, mind and body and soul. she lifts a hand, carding it through his curls, nails raking against his cat, like scratching a beloved cat under its chin. ) But I should warn you it won't only be me. I don't know how ... different my mind might feel, to you, but my power knows you're no threat. I won't let it harm you.
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Maybe. Well — not running away, but changing your mind is allowed. It's still allowed.
( hands curve over her bony knees, sliding down the tops of her freckled thighs, landing at her hips, loosely covered by lazy sleep shorts. paul edges up the hem of his sweatshirt, just enough to stroke his thumbs against her stomach, wondering if he might be able to cash in his learning ravkan reward now, after all. well — nowish. first things first. )
You know ... Okay. Imagine a hard-boiled egg. ( he gives her a look. ) Just stick with me. You know, if you push your thumb against it, there's some give, but when you take your thumb away there's no imprint. In this case, your mind is the hard boiled egg, and my memory is the thumb. It'll fill a gap, long enough for both of us to see it, and when it ends, it'll just be you again. ( cozying down, he props his chin up between her breasts, weight distributed down her middle, a little like an oversized cat finding the most comfortable and inconvenient spot to lounge on. ) Okay?
no subject
not for the first time, she finds herself grateful she's a pliant puddle of limbs under paul's lean body. less of a risk their minds clash rather than meld like a runny yolk. she squirms and stretches up into him, spurts of puffy exhales at his fingers teasing the ticklish skin of her belly, dangling in that dreamy void between sleepiness and consciousness. lazily, her toes dangle and draw down the backs of his legs, a softspun hum in her throat. a finger trails down the bridge of his nose, tapping freckles in her mental count. one, two, three, before she loses focus and has to start the process again. )
I don't mind you in my gaps. ( pun intentional, judging from the bleary, tranquil smile on her face. it's nice thought, isn't it? to be filled in all places, mind and body and soul. she lifts a hand, carding it through his curls, nails raking against his cat, like scratching a beloved cat under its chin. ) But I should warn you it won't only be me. I don't know how ... different my mind might feel, to you, but my power knows you're no threat. I won't let it harm you.