Laid around and lounged 'til around two
[Sound]
Debussy fills the house, drifting from Claire De Lune to the Nocturnes and back again. Nessie is lying on her side, curled up next to Jacob. He’s asleep and she’s lazily trailing her fingers up and down his forearm. She can hear his heart beat just beneath the music and it seems to be an accompaniment to the music.
She knows she nearly died and it’s something she’s not sure she can come to terms with. Death is a little bit like the mythical boogeyman to Nessie. All she knows about it lurks in the shadows, kept at bay by the immortal beings she lives with. The idea of it creeping so close, hiding under her bed and in her closet makes her shiver a little and she turns to tuck herself into Jacob’s chest. Her nose goes to the crook of his neck and her leg entangles with his. The Nocturnes provide background music for her thoughts and her brow furrows. She thinks loud, as if she were yelling a request at Edward to switch back to Claire de Lune. A few notes stumble, falter and in the middle of the Nocturne suite he switches back to the Suite bergamasque. Contentment washes over her features and she exhales against Jacob’s skin then takes a deep breath, holding his scent in as long as possible before she has to take another breath. Thirst rises up inside her body, scalding her throat with fire. Jacob is still half asleep but she half swears he’s the telepathic one. He moves his head, exposing his neck and she sinks her teeth into his skin, puncturing the scar she’s responsible for.
And Debussy plays on.
Debussy fills the house, drifting from Claire De Lune to the Nocturnes and back again. Nessie is lying on her side, curled up next to Jacob. He’s asleep and she’s lazily trailing her fingers up and down his forearm. She can hear his heart beat just beneath the music and it seems to be an accompaniment to the music.
She knows she nearly died and it’s something she’s not sure she can come to terms with. Death is a little bit like the mythical boogeyman to Nessie. All she knows about it lurks in the shadows, kept at bay by the immortal beings she lives with. The idea of it creeping so close, hiding under her bed and in her closet makes her shiver a little and she turns to tuck herself into Jacob’s chest. Her nose goes to the crook of his neck and her leg entangles with his. The Nocturnes provide background music for her thoughts and her brow furrows. She thinks loud, as if she were yelling a request at Edward to switch back to Claire de Lune. A few notes stumble, falter and in the middle of the Nocturne suite he switches back to the Suite bergamasque. Contentment washes over her features and she exhales against Jacob’s skin then takes a deep breath, holding his scent in as long as possible before she has to take another breath. Thirst rises up inside her body, scalding her throat with fire. Jacob is still half asleep but she half swears he’s the telepathic one. He moves his head, exposing his neck and she sinks her teeth into his skin, puncturing the scar she’s responsible for.
And Debussy plays on.