No Angels
03-30-2014, 03:52 PM
He would lean to her warmth as if she were a magnetic field to his heart, his body a missile that sought her heat as if it were his only purpose. Alas, he was ashamed to present himself to her in such a condition, yet she would have known very well herself the realities of being exposed to the tearing flesh of war; infection and ailment was always a possibility. As much as he liked to believe he were above nature and her thrashing ways. ?Regretfully yes, however not for long I can assure you,? his voice bore a husk of determination, as if his mind defied the sickness of his body. ?Sendoa, I need you to take over until I am well,? he would not allow her room to refuse, his forehead burning with the heat of his bloodstream as his haunches fell to rest beneath him, retracting from her touch. |