xxi.
the world.

He's draped her across his lap, and her eyes are closed, barely seeming to breathe; the sunlight is making her skin glow, an ethereal kind of pale, like some kind of undead girl.

But that doesn't sound terribly romantic, so he waxes poetic about the moon.

It's rare for her to be like this, so willing to receive affection from him; she's ( Read more... )