𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xvii. morrow's song.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐄 to the reality of what could possibly come this night.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Heat inches up her chest and neck as Morrow's hand slips from her lower back, gliding over the curve of her waist until any form of contact disappears. She stands frozen, entranced by the shadows dancing over Morrow's lean frame. Those black feathered wings look as if to be coated in knives, deadly to any soul's simple touch. Nothing about him is soft, not even his heart.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He wanders from the door towards a parlor chair in the corner of his bedroom. He pulls it to the centre of the room, in front of the embers flickering in the hearth. Without so much as a grunt, he gravitates towards his violin locked up in a leatherbound case. He gathers the instrument and bow, his steps calculated as he returns to the parlor chair, taking a seat and spreading his legs wide. He looks like a king, ready to deal our cards of destruction across the kingdom.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A low purr rumbles from his chest, attempting to coax Elowen from the doorway, but she keeps her heels grounded. He hardly gives her a glance as he tunes the violin's strings.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Dance for me," he whispers under his breath.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She hesitates. Every part of her thrums at the thought of her and Morrow. Mates or not, their little something is now a full-blown typhoon, sweeping its way through the night until she's in his arms. Morrow may be the most frustrating man in all of Aelethia, but nothing will ever come of harm to her when she's so close to his shore.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"There's no music," she mutters, her throat suddenly parched.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Morrow grunts. "I'm not holding a fucking violin just to sit in silence."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The music from the harvest moon's festival remains distant, but there was a charm amidst the harmony that held her captive. Perhaps, music had always been a love and a weakness for her, even as a child. Her heart and creature both gravitate towards Morrow's melodic compositions the second his fingers tap the piano keys or his bow strums his violin. It's a tune that engraves itself between the layers of their matebond, a constant lullaby meant to soothe both the composer and listener.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎In a world where she's surrounded by razor claws and ruthless weaponry, she never suspected that a simple melody could disintegrate her in full, and there's no other musician in the realms of Aelethia that could hold so much persuasion over her.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She takes a step towards Morrow, then another, and another, until she stands within his parted thighs. A growl of satisfaction thunders through clenched teeth as his meadowed hues glow that firefly green. He drags his attention from her eyes downward to her skirt, lingering on skin and awkward curves. But all she can see is his focus, the way his brows furrow slightly in concentration.