The WAR *** Not the story you think it is! Or maybe expecting. It's just a mess of many words leading to nowhere. A very slow love story. Or two. This may not be for you... or anyone.
A Story of Family.
In the aftermath of an almost deadly amb...
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"Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving."
MORNING
Avyanna woke up alone, her hand going to the empty space where Alistair should have been, but only touching cool sheets with her fingers.
He was gone.
She sat up and pulled the covers up to her chest and looked around.
She brushed her hair out of her face and slipped out of the bed with the sheets wrapped loosely around herself.
Avyanna went to the bedroom door and peered into the dim hallway.
It was still very quiet in the manor, and all curtains were still closed.
She closed the door and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face.
She saw herself in the tall mirror, her hair wild, her lips swollen from being kissed, her cheeks flushed pink.
She looked behind her into the dimly lit bedroom before she dropped the sheet that had been around her.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, and her body was suddenly new to her.
It was no longer hers, but belonged to Alistair now.
She saw a flash of colorful memory and knowledge.
She was glad that the bath had not been ready for her because she did not want to bath, not immediately, she knew she wanted to keep that memory and the feeling of his body on her from last night, the traces of his body on her and in her, remembering desire.
She noticed little shadows of soft pink color where the pressure of his hands and lips had been, and she brushed over them softly with her fingers, shivering slightly.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to distinguish between her magic and his own, the way Ada had taught her. It was like trying to listen to the roar of two streams, similar yet separate woven together with complex ancient sorcery. She was certain she could tell the difference now... maybe... maybe not, maybe she couldn't... yet she definitely could when they were together.
She sighed.
Avyanna picked up the sheet, wrapping it around herself again and went back to bed.
She lay buried under the covers, disappointed that Alistair was gone, but she supposed it may have been urgent... they needed him again...
And then the door opened, and Alistair walked in carrying a tray.
Avyanna sat up and watched him, her heart feeling like warm honey in her chest. He was barefoot and his shirt was open, his white-blonde hair disheveled. She saw the bruises on him, but she also saw the new marks her nails had made on his chest and his neck and her face exploded with color.
