[P] up and up the smoke will roll

Eris Eternity · 05-07-2011, 06:42 AM

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Word Count » 500+

my road to hell is surely paved

Ouija was one she was bound to enjoy; their interests crossed, and he was not an overbearing male. These were generally the ones she liked best, though she certainly made her exceptions for the hyper-dominant types, as she had with Haku and, to some extent, even Larkspur. She did not believe Larkspur was quite smart enough to control her, however, though the sable-shaded hybrid did greatly underestimate his intelligence and failed to give the dark man proper credit. In any case, she very nearly felt more comfortable with Ouija than she did Larkspur, though she certainly knew the habits of the latter better. Their children had roped them together and now they had a life together, and they were even trying for more children. She wondered at that briefly -- they were not mates. Why were they continuing this charade?

His arms tightened around her and licked her face; she returned this gesture with a more genuine smile, turning her head to him and showing him this for a moment before she leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her body, too, pressed against his, listening to the pleasing notes of his voice and feeling them vibrate against her body. She could feel his heart beating, even, when he was silent again and she listened carefully. There was more closeness and affection in these gestures for Eris, perhaps, than Ouija, and she would have felt guilty to have Larkspur or anyone else discover them, but he was comforting her, too, and she did not care. It made her feel good to be held and wanted, and this was something she perhaps craved from Larkspur, who was awkward in his interactions even with her.

“No, it's perfect,” she responded, her fingers again shifting to the gris-gris. Though she curiously ran her fingers over it, the hybrid did not think it would be proper to tear it open and inspect its contents then and there; thus, she left it tied, and instead left her fingers to explore its cold and cool surface. She would wear it in Salsola; though she and Sirius had yet to work out many of its details, she did not think he would object to her spiritual tendencies.

“Thank you,” she repeated, and her hands moved to cover his and squeeze them as they played with her fur. She lightened her grip after a moment and ran her own hands on his arms, allowing the continued touch and adding her own. She ached for it to move and touch her in other places, too, but she did not move his hands or make any insinuation of such, either. It seemed inappropriate, grieving a child and wanting a man other than her father, but they were not mates. They were not bound to each other. “May I have some of your fur?” she inquired, rolling the chartreuse eye closes to his face to look at him. “I'd like it if I felt you watched over me,” she added, wondering if this was appropriate for the gris-gris and its etiquette.

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