Post by wordy on Feb 14, 2011 12:29:08 GMT 10
Title: Love Song
Rating: PG
Word Count: 260
Summary: For him, there was only love.
A/N: Yep, Frostpine is definitely a ladies’ man.
The month of Hawthorn Moon brought a wave of heat that almost rivalled that of the forge, but Frostpine embraced it gladly—he had never been one for cold weather—and as the days passed he found his mood lifting. It was easy to credit the change to warm weather, though not entirely truthful.
She was a novice from the Air Temple; entirely too young for him, and equally as lovely. Her mannerisms spoke of shyness, or, they did until he had divested her of her layers and unwrapped her beneath him. Then she was bright and fierce, fanning the flames within him with no more than a look, a smile, a sound. It was easy to love her—too easy, perhaps—and Frostpine could not find it in himself to care.
(He had always been that way. Quick to love. At the same time, though, he had never really understood what love was supposed to be; not like other people understood it. There was always too much pain, or it was too complicated. That was what he had not understood. For him, there was only love.)
So he looked at her, committing every detail to memory: the taste of her skin, the colour of her hair, the way she clutched his shoulder tighter and pressed her forehead against his neck. Love was a god, with a million brilliant facets; sometimes it spanned the years, other times it was fleeting and brief. But that didn’t change anything. Love was love - and while he had it, he would keep it.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 260
Summary: For him, there was only love.
A/N: Yep, Frostpine is definitely a ladies’ man.
The month of Hawthorn Moon brought a wave of heat that almost rivalled that of the forge, but Frostpine embraced it gladly—he had never been one for cold weather—and as the days passed he found his mood lifting. It was easy to credit the change to warm weather, though not entirely truthful.
She was a novice from the Air Temple; entirely too young for him, and equally as lovely. Her mannerisms spoke of shyness, or, they did until he had divested her of her layers and unwrapped her beneath him. Then she was bright and fierce, fanning the flames within him with no more than a look, a smile, a sound. It was easy to love her—too easy, perhaps—and Frostpine could not find it in himself to care.
(He had always been that way. Quick to love. At the same time, though, he had never really understood what love was supposed to be; not like other people understood it. There was always too much pain, or it was too complicated. That was what he had not understood. For him, there was only love.)
So he looked at her, committing every detail to memory: the taste of her skin, the colour of her hair, the way she clutched his shoulder tighter and pressed her forehead against his neck. Love was a god, with a million brilliant facets; sometimes it spanned the years, other times it was fleeting and brief. But that didn’t change anything. Love was love - and while he had it, he would keep it.