I have not meditated since that night… the night I woke up in the Fane.
The night my meditations began to breathe…
The night where everything fell apart.
His voice snapped me back in to it so easily, and I only seem to remember him telling me to shut my eyes.
Fingers run across my skin, I hold on to the feeling of them… the hard, rough texture finding no catch against the silk it slid upon. My cheeks first, flush, I know they are.
My skin is burning.
Down my neck, slowly, like the trickle of water. It feels so nice… but I want them to lower quicker.
I feel a need deep within, that fire fuelling…
I can not see who it is, as those hands reach my shoulders, rubbing them lightly with thumbs.
It is better not to see, not to look… I must just focus on the feel. But my hands can not be curbed, I reach up to touch his face.
Stubbled, as rough as his fingers, strands of hair flirting against thin fingers… fingertips find his lips.
They are warm as he breathes, unspeaking… unmoving.
There is breathing all around me, as if he has me whole… as if there is nothing else.
My breath, his…
He nips at my fingers and I yank them back, still blink with the darkness. I smile, but I do not know if he can see as well.
Has he ever seen me smile?
The warmth inside of me grows, as it never does. The cold ebbs backward, with him there so close.
It will burn me up… but I, almost want it to.
His hands take mine. They are warm as well, but he was always much warmer than I…
Then, it is not only us. Chaos, thoughts screaming in my head. The sound of wind, the feel of moss something hollow…
The flame ebbs inside, I am losing it among these many things!
He holds me, big arms wrapped tight around my small form, pressing our bodies together, heats shared, trying to blot the chaos around out. I press my hands to his chest, they rise and fall as he breathes…
He speaks, I remember.
His voice… I remember…
His words are lost, unimportant.
I inhale his scent… quiver…
And then snap awake.
14th Sun, 5th Astral Moon, 1571
Deirdre Ta'ea 