Post by Natalia Anjali on May 17, 2018 15:02:56 GMT -7
[attr="class","ohlove"]
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[attr="class","ohloveheader2"]
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[attr="class","eyes"]✎ tag: Siofra
my heart it aches to stay
but the flesh will have it's way. and i'm already gone. i'm gone.
[attr="class","ohlovebody"]Natalia laughed along with Bronwyn for the sake of laughing, and found her cheeks burning with heat despite the slight distance the charm was now away from her. It was a different kind of warm, a warm that came from within.
She nodded and laughed once more as Bronwyn offered up the mead, and finally -- the two were able to have that drink.
The night went on like that for a while, longer than Natalia could certainly not have ever intended or imagined. Bronwyn was all light touches, particularly as the mead flowed between them. Natalia on the other hand remained shy, her laugh the only thing changing with the mead. It became louder, and if she had been sober she would have been thankful they were such a distance from anyone who might hear them.
Their conversation was of this, and of that, with Bronwyn being curious about who Natalia was, and what her life was like. Natalia could understand the curiosity, and the way that Bronwyn continued to shift the conversation onto her. From the little Natalia knew, Bronwyn did not get much excitement in her life, despite her wealth. Even if Natalia did not have much excitement either, not anymore, she did have memories. She told Bronwyn about what she was like before the mines, how she was a dancer in a community of dancers. How music lived in her veins, and the rhythm of it was what kept her at pace in her new life. She told her little about the mines, more about the man who ran them - Zota Vanros - who Natalia imagined was kind, and a good father to his children. She told Bronwyn a lot, but nothing too personal. Even a little too much mead couldn't force Natalia to recall him.
The night ended with a tale Natalia told Bronwyn, about how a woman of high standing had once come to her village when she was younger. A winemaker who owned a number of the vineyards her community bought from and stomped for. The woman had been celebrated as a hero to their people - and the community had even organized a dancing competition for her favour. Natalia hadn't won - the woman chose a man who performed a strange maneuver he called a 'worm' - but she'd had the time of her life. Also, despite Bronwyn's insistence, Natalia refused to recreate what she described of that dance. It would take a few bottles of wine, Natalia had told Bronwyn - who had promised to bring several the next time.
Ah, the next time. It was laughter, and fun, and touches that were perhaps not just friendly -- but it had to end. The fire was drawing colder and Natalia had work calling to her. The bell would ring anytime, she knew. Though she knew there would not be a next time, Natalia made an empty promise to see Bronwyn again, said her goodbyes with a hug, and left the outcropping the way she had come to it.
She felt something now that she had not felt in any place but dreams and memories. Not just warmth - though she certainly did feel warmer - but something deeper, too. She realized how lonely, how hungry, and how cold she had been - for so long. Bronwyn was a taste of a life she knew she shouldn't desire, because she would never have it-- But as she put on her hardhat, and slung her pickaxe over her shoulders, she could not help but hum a tune she hadn't hummed in quite some time.
She nodded and laughed once more as Bronwyn offered up the mead, and finally -- the two were able to have that drink.
The night went on like that for a while, longer than Natalia could certainly not have ever intended or imagined. Bronwyn was all light touches, particularly as the mead flowed between them. Natalia on the other hand remained shy, her laugh the only thing changing with the mead. It became louder, and if she had been sober she would have been thankful they were such a distance from anyone who might hear them.
Their conversation was of this, and of that, with Bronwyn being curious about who Natalia was, and what her life was like. Natalia could understand the curiosity, and the way that Bronwyn continued to shift the conversation onto her. From the little Natalia knew, Bronwyn did not get much excitement in her life, despite her wealth. Even if Natalia did not have much excitement either, not anymore, she did have memories. She told Bronwyn about what she was like before the mines, how she was a dancer in a community of dancers. How music lived in her veins, and the rhythm of it was what kept her at pace in her new life. She told her little about the mines, more about the man who ran them - Zota Vanros - who Natalia imagined was kind, and a good father to his children. She told Bronwyn a lot, but nothing too personal. Even a little too much mead couldn't force Natalia to recall him.
The night ended with a tale Natalia told Bronwyn, about how a woman of high standing had once come to her village when she was younger. A winemaker who owned a number of the vineyards her community bought from and stomped for. The woman had been celebrated as a hero to their people - and the community had even organized a dancing competition for her favour. Natalia hadn't won - the woman chose a man who performed a strange maneuver he called a 'worm' - but she'd had the time of her life. Also, despite Bronwyn's insistence, Natalia refused to recreate what she described of that dance. It would take a few bottles of wine, Natalia had told Bronwyn - who had promised to bring several the next time.
Ah, the next time. It was laughter, and fun, and touches that were perhaps not just friendly -- but it had to end. The fire was drawing colder and Natalia had work calling to her. The bell would ring anytime, she knew. Though she knew there would not be a next time, Natalia made an empty promise to see Bronwyn again, said her goodbyes with a hug, and left the outcropping the way she had come to it.
She felt something now that she had not felt in any place but dreams and memories. Not just warmth - though she certainly did feel warmer - but something deeper, too. She realized how lonely, how hungry, and how cold she had been - for so long. Bronwyn was a taste of a life she knew she shouldn't desire, because she would never have it-- But as she put on her hardhat, and slung her pickaxe over her shoulders, she could not help but hum a tune she hadn't hummed in quite some time.
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