m e k h i (incomplete)

t w e n t y - t h r e e

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t w e n t y - t h r e e 

A groan falls from his lips, male sitting up and letting the grey blanket fall and pool around his waist.

He shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair. Eyes slowly begin to open,  teal hues a little dull with sleep. Fingers immediately wander the scope of the bed, searching for the little wolf that slept in his bed. She was usually draped across his chest, once curled around his leg. Dark lips curve into a frown, when fingers reach nothing. The bed was empty.

An incoherent sound tumbles from his throat, feet stepping out of the bed and fitting into the matted carpet. Limbs stretch, shoulders shaking with the feeling and his search begins quickly, features dipped down with a little drowsiness. He hadn't let himself wake up before dawn like he normally did, wanting to stay with her a little longer.

His search doesn't extend far, sight immediately grasping onto the balcony doors slightly perched open. Mekhi lets his shoulder lean against the frame, lingering in the threshold, eyebrows furrowing.

Her arms rested on the railing of the balcony, a foot curled behind the other, and her cheeks resting in her hands, eyes looking out before the grounds that stood before her. The morning air was on the mistier side today, the season of spring conflicted in whether to return to winter's demand, or cherish the sun's return.

A thick blanket of clouds sealed the sun's light, trapping it away from the earth and intruding upon the sky's domain. Not an ounce of baby blue was seen. Clouds were heavy with water, and grey in colour, darkening by the second. Fog drooped low to the ground, thinning out, but casting a sullenness over the world. Rain threatened to fall, and the winds were low, barely moving.

The air has the slightest touch of cold.

The wolf is obviously in deep thought, jolted out of them as warmth suddenly clutches her, tattooed hands curling around the curve of her hips. Her head tilts up, red lips softly lifting up at the sight of her half. Her eyes turn back to the fog, watching a few lycans – the keen warriors- begin to set up for early morning training.

Nothing is spoken for a moment, Mekhi's arms wrapped around her, her back resting on his front. Her fingers find his, one finger looped with his, the ring cool against her skin.

"It's going to rain," is all she mumbles, eyes peeking up to the clouds, whose restraints were slowly slipping. Mekhi only hums in response, kissing the back of her neck, pressing his nose to the skin.

"Are you feeling better?" his voice is rougher than it normally was, with a husky rasp and octaves lower than his naturally low tone.

Ember's stomach flutters with the sound, never having really heard his morning voice. She wanted to hear it often.

She only nods, but the male frowns, obviously thinking differently.

"I'll have another one of those herbal teas drawn up for you," the last few words are spoken through a deep yawn.

"My heart feels heavy," a small admission, tiny hands coming up and gripping the forearms strapped around her waist. Her fingers stroke mocha skin, following blue veins.

"Why is that so?" teal momentarily closing against her skin.

"Lazar," the name falls from her lips too quietly, barely murmured. The King says nothing, feeling her confliction and the tension knotting her from within.