the second
Inspiration: “Palomas blancas vuelan razo sobre el tejado brilla el sol y rien todos menos yo.” - Alex Ubago ; Dame Tu Aire
B l i s s
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If her laughter was any richer, the taste of something sweet and sugary would coat her lips. If her laughter was any more musical, silver bells would hum quietly in her eardrums. If her eyes were any brighter, they would rival the sun’s dancing rays.
Her hands reached out, arms outstretched toward the sky. They longed to ghost soft brushes against the plumed white clouds and her hair danced behind her, caught by the breeze’s ever playful grasps. Her feet could hardly seem to stay still, for they skipped lightly against the fields, teasing the long blades of evergreen grass beneath. The earth longed for her presence, but the sky reached out to her just as jealously. The sun warred for her brilliant warmth while the clouds fought for the shine of her smile. One finger delicately grazed the air and it laughed, pulling at her palms and trying to lead her farther down the hills. She smiled and stepped forward a few paces, contemplating whether to follow. It beckoned, returning to her with a small gust at her face, blowing the tawny tresses back lovingly from her russet-hued irises.
She laughed once more.
A wing’s flight, a feather’s brush against her cheek. A loving kiss graced her skin, the flutter of eyelashes. She looked up, around at the fields with her brow arched adoringly, sweetly. Her warm eyes caught the faint shadow of the bird, watched it flap its wings before soaring down. Fragile feet, tucked feathers and it cooed on its perch; a pair of ivory-skinned hands. Soft flapping and dark, beady eyes turned to her, innocent. Viridian eyes glimmered, could’ve been laughing yet there was too much softness in those eyes. So she laughed for her.
Silver bells and a sweet glaze on her lips. She grinned and walked toward her, cradling the dove in her hands. A chirp and the white bird lifted from her hands to the slender shoulder. A muffled squeak and welcoming laughter as it nuzzled into a flushed cheek. Russet met viridian. Both grinned, both spoke without words.
Natsuki reached her hand once more to the dove and obediently it swept back to her. Shizuru leaned down and kissed the bird’s feathery head. A kiss for the dove, a kiss for her beloved, on the cheek this time. Bright green, joyous green and shy lips brushed her temple. Natsuki’s fingers rose, splayed and touched the sky. A coo for a goodbye; wings opened and took to the sky. Sunlight bathed the bird in pearly tones, whiter and brighter than its snowy coat. They danced against the feathers, beamed down to the two solidly standing still on the grass.
Natsuki stood firmly, rooted to the spot not by entrancement of the bird’s flight, but by the pull, the want and need to stay by her side. Fingers almost bashfully traced her own, hesitated a mere moment before interlacing with hers. She curled her hand tighter over those fingers, felt them tremble slightly, but a kiss on the cheek and nose and the slight shaking ceased. Shizuru nestled closer to her, pressed her supple, inviting body against Natsuki’s. Her eyes were laughing, free of tears and discrepancies. It was a glance, a glimpse of the carefree attitude that could have been, should have been and Natsuki leaped to her, placed a rare brave kiss on her lips. The lightest of touches, but just enough to be felt. Shizuru made an odd noise, looked startled.
Then she was grinning again, laughing in that rich manner. Natsuki smiled and then lifted her gaze, watching the distant flight of the dove and the brilliance of the sun’s rays, felt the playful wind. She grinned softly at Shizuru, tilted her head at her and the woman paused in her mirth. Natsuki murmured just four words.
“Flying must be bliss.”
Then she leaned in and captured Shizuru’s lips, pleased to hear the echo of silver bells and overjoyed to taste a hint of sweetness on her lips.
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Like my fluff? I feel rusty but happy. :)