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Zhol had meant to offer her a hand. He'd meant to be smug about it. He'd meant to use it as a way to flaunt his victory. Maybe even a way to "accidentally" tug her off balance and into his arms. Perhaps this was his penance for allowing himself to think such mischievous thoughts; watching that brief instant of Khara plummeting away from him transformed into one of the single most terrifying moments of his life. Maybe it was the other memories that had been shaken loose by Khara's earlier questions; maybe it was a little too similar to a nightmare that Zhol had woken from a few too many times; regardless of why, Zhol couldn't imagine feeling more scared.
The fact that his arm had lanced out and grabbed hold of hers was more instinct and reflex than intent; thank the gods it had though, and thank them - or perhaps just the measly diet afforded to the Chiet - for making sure that the love of his life was dainty and light enough that dragging her to the top of the slope wasn't an insurmountable ordeal.
If Khara hadn't flung herself into Zhol's arms, he would have dragged her there; he could feel his arms trembling as he held her as close as he could, and knew it wasn't the effort of lifting her that was making them do so. His eyes closed the way they always did when he held her, but he had to force them open, force his gaze to focus on the ground, to count rocks and twigs, to do absolutely anything to force the visions of cliffs and screams and falling from his mind.
She pulled away; he wished she hadn't. The second her lips stopped moving, his lips found them, and he wished he could reach into his chest and tear out his lungs, so that they would stop demanding that he stop kissing her. What began as long and deep and passionate turned into frantic aftershocks, Zhol torn between wanting to whisper and not wanting to stop.
"They still hurt?" he asked, his hand cradling the back of Khara's head, his lips still close enough to hers to feel her breathing. "Do I need to distract you more?"
Zhol had meant to offer her a hand. He'd meant to be smug about it. He'd meant to use it as a way to flaunt his victory. Maybe even a way to "accidentally" tug her off balance and into his arms. Perhaps this was his penance for allowing himself to think such mischievous thoughts; watching that brief instant of Khara plummeting away from him transformed into one of the single most terrifying moments of his life. Maybe it was the other memories that had been shaken loose by Khara's earlier questions; maybe it was a little too similar to a nightmare that Zhol had woken from a few too many times; regardless of why, Zhol couldn't imagine feeling more scared.
The fact that his arm had lanced out and grabbed hold of hers was more instinct and reflex than intent; thank the gods it had though, and thank them - or perhaps just the measly diet afforded to the Chiet - for making sure that the love of his life was dainty and light enough that dragging her to the top of the slope wasn't an insurmountable ordeal.
If Khara hadn't flung herself into Zhol's arms, he would have dragged her there; he could feel his arms trembling as he held her as close as he could, and knew it wasn't the effort of lifting her that was making them do so. His eyes closed the way they always did when he held her, but he had to force them open, force his gaze to focus on the ground, to count rocks and twigs, to do absolutely anything to force the visions of cliffs and screams and falling from his mind.
She pulled away; he wished she hadn't. The second her lips stopped moving, his lips found them, and he wished he could reach into his chest and tear out his lungs, so that they would stop demanding that he stop kissing her. What began as long and deep and passionate turned into frantic aftershocks, Zhol torn between wanting to whisper and not wanting to stop.
"They still hurt?" he asked, his hand cradling the back of Khara's head, his lips still close enough to hers to feel her breathing. "Do I need to distract you more?"
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
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This template was made by Khara, the letter Q, and the numbers 87 and 13.