Running

[rhiannon_lee]

Nighttime in Cottonwood Cove was a spectacle: a pale, pebble-strewn ground underfoot, ghostly Joshua trees twisting against a barren landscape, and a sky so black and velvety that Rhiannon longed to touch it. The moon hung low and full as she knocked at the front door of Cian’s little cottage, which had been built by a wealthy contractor as a getaway spot for his family during the construction of the Hoover Dam in the 1930s. With all that was temporary or mobile in this part of Clark County, Rhiannon appreciated the historical aspects of its framework, and how it lent a sense of time and place to an otherwise transient community.

The slayer’s dark hair was combed into a ponytail. After the sun went down, the desert temperature dropped sharply, and so she wore a loosely knit sweater over her tank top, jeans, and boots. A delicate crucifix glinted on her collarbone. She crossed her ankles and slipped her thumbs into her hip pockets as she waited for the Were to answer.

Comments

Re: Running

[rhiannon_lee]

Rhiannon swallowed hard. Eyes closed and wordless, yet she would swear that she knew what he was feeling – and that she was laid bare, too. More than that, Cian had heard her through Siofra’s ears. He was there. The slayer’s fingers curled into his biceps. “You’re undoing me.” It was his honesty, his connection to the earth, his simplicity, and how he removed the toxicity without lifting a finger to change her circumstances. Standing in this emotional proximity, it seemed so much more naked than skin or words. It was a dare to keep standing there, because there was a less-than-bold part of Rhiannon that wanted to run outside and keep going, high-tail it to her car, pull down the visor mirror, and slap herself back into reality.

Instead, she pressed her temple into his cheek and breathed out. “You have me.”

And then, quieter, “Shit.”

Re: Running

[cian_oneill]

There was no world outside at that moment, it had been suspended, rendered insignificant by the powers that ran through the earth and rock and night sky.

And the soft laugh that followed Rhiannon's utterance seemed to ripple through the dark to seal the moment for the three of them. "Lovely sentiment," came the soft lilt, the smile on his face clear, but no indication as to which of her utterances was drawing the descriptor. But the humour could be felt, like a warm wash across limbs and mind.

Cian himself wasn't exactly sure what had taken place, but the urgent need to bring her there, then, that night, had proven to be as important as he had felt it to be. He took her hand and turned toward the ledge, crossing toward it where the scattered crystals lay bathed in the cleansing moonlight, each a different size and shape. He ran his eyes over them, one drawing him to it. He picked it up and held it in his palm, looking at her briefly then at the crystals again.