Post by Ludmilla. on Dec 9, 2013 3:21:22 GMT
She awakens to something cold pressed against her back. And momentarily the sphinx can hear her heartbeat in her ears, the wild fight or flight instinct that possessed every creature wide and low. And it would have been overwhelming, leading right up to a wrestling and grapple war of dominance and screaming. The sudden realization of how could she be left so open? How could she expect her reputation to keeping enemies from slipping a knife against her throat in the night? But before havoc erupts in the comfort of her own room, doubles doors wide open for the whole of the house to interpret. A voice familiar says desperately afraid into her ear, "Please don't be upset with me."
And just like that the Chimaera's guard drops, and the silence idles on until her heartbeat thumps at a manageable pace.Adrenaline fading with the influence of hip-bone and stomach kneading so innocently into the dip of her lower back. Chin buried just beyond her neck at the beginning of her shoulders.
Something about the moment is awkward, but not unwanted.
"Savannah," Ludmilla begins. And her voice is cautious and kind, and there is a little bit of sleep in the way she enunciates and prolongs the werewolf's name. The woman tilts her head slightly, catching a hiding frame in her peripherals, and her comment is neither crude or demanding when she ask. "You cant just --" But grows quiet as she hears a soft whimper, a under the breath plea. And makes no other move to make a word. Not for a while.
Not until the stone grip the vet has on her is a lot softer, and a lot warmer. Until the last bits of what she knows is wolf -- rides out with the comfort and silence of someone familiar and trustworthy. A interesting fact she'd have to muse later, when the girl of her close scrutiny wasn't curled up beside her like a comma.
It was uncharacteristic, driven by fear lately, and she let's the empty drown out insecurities. Not wanting to provoke a wolves temper as much as she wanted to deal with it so vulnerable right now. Plaid in nothing but underwear and a shirt that was borderline to little. A hidden lack of modesty not meant for prying eyes.
"What happened?" She whispers finally.
But doesn't move yet.
And just like that the Chimaera's guard drops, and the silence idles on until her heartbeat thumps at a manageable pace.Adrenaline fading with the influence of hip-bone and stomach kneading so innocently into the dip of her lower back. Chin buried just beyond her neck at the beginning of her shoulders.
Something about the moment is awkward, but not unwanted.
"Savannah," Ludmilla begins. And her voice is cautious and kind, and there is a little bit of sleep in the way she enunciates and prolongs the werewolf's name. The woman tilts her head slightly, catching a hiding frame in her peripherals, and her comment is neither crude or demanding when she ask. "You cant just --" But grows quiet as she hears a soft whimper, a under the breath plea. And makes no other move to make a word. Not for a while.
Not until the stone grip the vet has on her is a lot softer, and a lot warmer. Until the last bits of what she knows is wolf -- rides out with the comfort and silence of someone familiar and trustworthy. A interesting fact she'd have to muse later, when the girl of her close scrutiny wasn't curled up beside her like a comma.
It was uncharacteristic, driven by fear lately, and she let's the empty drown out insecurities. Not wanting to provoke a wolves temper as much as she wanted to deal with it so vulnerable right now. Plaid in nothing but underwear and a shirt that was borderline to little. A hidden lack of modesty not meant for prying eyes.
"What happened?" She whispers finally.
But doesn't move yet.