The story of Benevolence. I'm simply writing this for a friend and an idea I had for her "anime" character. Read if you'd like! It's nothing too serious though I will say.
(Pictures or gifs I use are NOT my own.)
"Well, in that case," Jordarian smirks and turns his body over leaning directly in front of Bev's vision, "Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known-"
"Really?!" Bev playfully shoves him aside and sits up herself, "Shakespeare that's not sappy that's-"
"Cliche. I know, I know." he laughs softly and rests into the position he fell in. Leaning on his left arm he stares up at her. Her eyes consuming his. His face shows contentment. Benevolence gives a warm smile and pauses before leaning down. They share a kiss--a sweet kiss that lasts a while. Embracing each other's company, the crashing waves on the shore grow louder. When he pulls away, he raises his fingers and reaches for Bev's scarf.
"Thank you," she nestles into her now lifted scarf. It's about 30 degrees Fahrenheit with soft snowflakes cascading around them, so their cheeks are red. Her nose has a warm flush, and her eyes are as blue as a sunny day sky. They both reposition and look out at the vast body of water before them. Their legs are intertwined as they sit for hours. Fits of laughter and gushy kisses ensue throughout the evening until they're ready to depart.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Benevolence asks as she brushes off her back and legs.
"Absolutely," Jordarian gives a goofy royal bow then glances up to her through his oak brown locks. There are snowflakes landing on his head and face in a, need I say, poetic way. Giving a chuckle along with her, he leans back up and kisses her forehead, "See you soon Bev the great." she watches as his feet recede further and further from her. She takes one last look at the water, after feeling the small wet artistry landing on her cheeks some more she heads home herself.
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Benevolence opens her front door and taps her shoes off by the entrance before removing them. She hangs up her red scarf and pale brown coat before trotting to her room. Her chest seems full of joy and tenderness. She changes. Her shirt is tossed onto her white carpet and her jeans slide effortlessly down her pale legs. She has a beautiful renaissance figure--a Portrait of a lady in a yellow shawl byKonstantin Makovsky type of figure. At least that's how Jordarian's explained her to appear. She then falls back onto her bed.
She stares at the ceiling. What's going on inside her mind? Her eyes search the open space above her before they hesitantly close.
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