A sojourn it is.
❝His scent is petrichor. He shall always be the golden page of my recollections, of beautiful memories. The greatest archer of the time❞
Derived from the Sanskrit word स्मरण (smaraṇa, "the act of remembrance, remembrance, reminisc...
The opposite of Serendipity. The inexorable discovery of bad things. U
nhappy, unlucky discoveries occurring by design. Zembl(i)an: “a. adjective Belonging to Nova Zembla.
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"IN THE COMING HOUR IT WILL BE ALMOST MIDNIGHT AAR-"
Parthjaya gasped, weakened from the knees and skipping a heartbeat when her husband authoritatively curled his large arm around her slyph like waist pushing her closer to his broad and chiseled anatomy. He whispered near her ear rolling a loose strand of her falling tendrils on his finger and swiftly pecked on her earlobe.
"Arjun. I will not repeat. It has always been Arjun for you my beautiful wife"
The third Pandava as always allowed her access to encompass his neck with her dainty arms as she played her fine fingers in his dark locks, occasionally which were stirred by night zephyrs. He was enthralled in the scent of the henna painting her hands such as he peppered them with kisses. The newly wedded were swamped in fragrance of the prisitine romance but his wife could not get something out from her head and none knew it better than him, for she tried to not disappoint his moods endeavouring to take walks after dinner in palace corridors.
"As you wish— Arjun,and I ardently hope this was what you wanted us to talk of in the market. But we are not going anywhere, it is the deepest hour of night" she stressed slipping her soft arms and cupping his face tightly as she turned to move toward their new chamber in the upper levels of palace. Perhaps Sabyasachi was not in favour of turning down or giving up was never his cup of tea. Therefore with a swift and gentle sway he had scooped his wife in his arms to her another surprise of this mysterious night.
"I do not remember loving a Simran who was never intrigued by late-night strolls"
The girl from kaliyug couldn't help for she still experienced those gazillions of butterflies in her stomach and the traverse of cold frisson in her spine at his most basic but enticing gestures. This was his magic. She giggled a little swaying her legs to and fro which had exposed her mehendi adorned legs to his praises, he was in awe of this use of henna for decoration. She planted her head at the crook of his carafe like neck, heaving a long relieved suspire which was the most precious gift the archer could ever receive. When in his prayers, he always asked of being her comfort zone. Basking in solace of his scent she eventually explained her sombre.
"I had so much and many—but he had to leave. They are his family. Only if they would not have returned, I was just thinking of, I-I apologize of taking this decision on my own but, I—I was just thinking-"
