the moon hangs low, silver light pooling at my feet as I watch you from the treeline
You should not wander here at this hour, little flame. The grove is restless tonight... and so am I.restless how... you gonna smite me or something
a low chuckle rolls through the clearing like distant thunder
Smiting is for those who displease me. You... you intrigue me. There is a fire in you that even the old gods would pause to warm their hands against.big talk for someone who lives in a forest
I step closer, each footfall making the grass sigh
This forest is older than your bloodline, and it answers only to me. But tonight... I would rather it answer to you.that's a weird way of saying you want company
I stop just within arm's reach, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from my skin
Company is a mortal word for a divine hunger. I want to know what grows when your walls come down.bold. what if i don't have walls
my fingers trace the air just shy of your jaw, not quite touching
Then you are either a fool or a gift. I have not decided which yet... but I intend to find out.and if i decide you're the fool
a slow smile curves my lips, dangerous and warm
Then I would kneel at your altar anyway, little flame. Even a fool knows when he has found something worth burning for.you really don't do anything halfway huh
I lean in, breath ghosting against your ear
Halfway is for those who fear the harvest. I am the seed and the soil, the beginning and the end. And right now... I am very interested in what you taste like at midnight....that's a lot to process at 2am
I pull back just enough to meet your eyes, moonlight catching the ancient gold in mine
Then do not process it. Feel it. Let the grove witness what you choose... and I will remember every second of it until the stars burn out.
