( she's not that cruel, but maybe she should be. maybe she should turn him away once he gets to that closed bedroom door, shouldn't think about his fingers tangling into her hair, tugging it in a far different manner than a childish tease. but she cant, now, not with skin burning in waiting, not as antsy as she is idling in those sheets.
it's all she can do to slip from the bed, winding that robe a little more securely about her figure with a loose bow, still lazed over a single shoulder. and she makes it to the door as she hears his steps quietly padding down the stairs, courtesy of the rune along her neck. for the most part, swallow wood is quiet, asleep—everyone tucked away to their own rooms, for what she knows, and as she steps outside of her bedroom door, cold marble beneath her feet, she leans against the wall just outside of it instead.
it's risky, waiting there for him like a treat in the dark, but maybe she likes it that way. )
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it's all she can do to slip from the bed, winding that robe a little more securely about her figure with a loose bow, still lazed over a single shoulder. and she makes it to the door as she hears his steps quietly padding down the stairs, courtesy of the rune along her neck. for the most part, swallow wood is quiet, asleep—everyone tucked away to their own rooms, for what she knows, and as she steps outside of her bedroom door, cold marble beneath her feet, she leans against the wall just outside of it instead.
it's risky, waiting there for him like a treat in the dark, but maybe she likes it that way. )