3,000 Years

Deflowering (May)

Innocence. Purity. These were things that goddesses stood for, embodied. A goddess was graceful, perfect and ethereal. She always knew what to do, what to say, how to act. Goddesses were never caught up in the throws of their emotions. Goddesses were never blinded by their own prides and prejudices. A goddess was balanced; perfect. She did not throw her senses away into the realms of human emotion.

"I- " Red-faced and tight-chested, Elizabeth pushes her form against a nearby tree. Rough bark scrapes against her spine, anchoring her to reality, but her rapid heartbeats and heated face say otherwise. Her racing thoughts and heaving chest give way to her growing loss of control. "...I don't know what you mean by that."

"Is that so?" Meliodas raises a brow, always being one to push and push until there was no button to push anymore. Obnoxiously, painfully, he looks her right in the eye, his smile inches from her own wavering lips. "So you don't know anything about this at all?"

A sharp breath. Squeezed shut eyes. Oh, she knew. He knew that she knew she knew. But Elizabeth wouldn't admit it, not ever. Goddesses weren't ever meant to fall into the open trap of passion: chastity was key to the race of righteous angels. They did not tarnish nor stain themselves with the dirty marks of premature and highly reckless passion. Goddesses were thoughtful. Calculated. They made sure that passion was not the only thing burning away the calm forest of emotions; they made sure that the forest was always replenishing itself.

Meliodas was not someone Elizabeth knew long enough to associate with other things. Sure, she enjoyed his company and always pined to know more and more about him, but that was equivalent to passion. Flames. Her interest would burn and burn away, eating up all her logic - emotions - and then she'd be left with nothing. No feeling. If Elizabeth wanted to do things the proper way, the goddess way, then she needed to make sure that this was right. She needed to make sure that there were no flames. No danger of extinguishing herself out of her desire to burn.

"...I'm aware of certain things," Elizabeth skirts further around the tree, sinking to rest her rear against the grassy ground. Purposefully, she touches the grass and focuses on the small but colourful carnations that bloom beneath her palms. "But that doesn't mean I want to try them."

"Your loss," Meliodas shrugs perching upon a root sticking out of the leafy forest floor. Leaning against the tree's trunk, he picks a blade of grass and chews on it. "It's better to take it while you have it."

Blase. He is so blase about it all. Unlike humans, unlike most people of any type of race she has ever met, Meliodas is entirely blase towards the topic of intimacy. He doesn't show the same care, the same thought, that she would imagine someone so carefully planned out as he is would have. She expected him to be someone who wouldn't have a regard towards it, someone who didn't care much for it. But, like always, he had surprised her. He had flipped the tables on her expectations.

"But aren't you scared of being burned?" Elizabeth suddenly blurts out, her cheeks staining pink as she curiously peers up at him. More colours pop up within the patch of flowers, bright reds and pinks and yellows. Suddenly, the simple, white daises were curling.

"You only get burned if you let someone hurt you," Meliodas speaks slowly, carefully, as if really thinking about his words. He continues to chew away on the grass, almost lazily as he fell into some sort of simple explanation. "If you don't care much, you can't get burned."

Don't care? Can't get burned? The whole point of passion is to feel the intense heat, the prickling burn, of it all. Passion was something that ate away at you bit by bit, building and building into an inferno that can rarely be stopped. The whole point of passion was its intensity, its power. If you removed that power, the intense, sparking heat and feelings of it all, what were you left with? Were you left with anything at all? Elizabeth didn't think so. She thought that having passion but lacking the heat was just as bad as not having it at all.

"That's a pretty sad existence then, isn't it?" The goddess speaks, her voice soft as she shifts her position and peers up at the blonde. Her hands rest upon the risen tree roots, sprouting little tufts of moss. "You never really know what it's like..."

"And neither will you unless you take that chance," Meliodas shrugs, waving off her concerns. It wasn't like she was really going to change her mind, so he'd leave it as it is. "It- "

Before he can finish, the goddess had closed the distance between them and planted her lips upon his. It was unexpected, entirely unpredictable and spontaneous, but Meliodas couldn't say he was surprised. Not when she wound her arms around his neck, not when she threaded her fingers through his hair and definitely not when she pulled away, wide-eyed and red-faced, a rapid apology speeding past her lips.

"I'm so sorry!" Elizabeth squeaks, covering her offending mouth with her hands. Her face burning, she sinks into the grass and stares at the flowers she'd conjured, refusing to make eye-contact. "I just had to know..."

Curiosity. She had fallen prey to curiosity once more. Curiosity was what always made Elizabeth weak-willed towards Meliodas, more gentle. Meeting him, getting to know him, just now - curiosity was always fueling her insatiable desire to know more about him, to be close to him. Her mother had always warned her about curiosity; everyone had always told her to be careful. The curiosity she had was dangerous, deadly. The curiosity she had was what also made her vulnerable to Meliodas' own private plans.

"You're pretty forward for a goddess," Meliodas teases, noting how her blush had not died down quite yet. He sends her a wink, a mischievous smirk. "Don't worry, it's cute."

Elizabeth could only bury her face in her hands, letting out a silent scream of embarrassment.

Innocence. Purity. Those were things a goddess stood for, embodied. Yet here she is, laying in the grass, humoring a demon that encourages the worst behaviours, the worst habits, and sees nothing wrong with it.

Raising her fingertips to her still tingling lips, Elizabeth takes in a deep breath. Brushing her fingers against the grass, she watches as the flowers bloom - red, yellow, pink. They were no longer white. Her heart pounds in her ears.

"Do you promise not to burn me?"

"I promise."

She's then sent tumbling in the grass, her world forever changed.

The flowers stopped growing.