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June 1800
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July 1800
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from your hands to the heavens
01.05.1800 - 12:00
OrteElturel
PosttypPost
#13
uploads/uploadsystem/icon/icon_1.gif
There is a breeze on your neck, on your collarbone - it is not his mouth, which is next to your ear. It is something entirely different. Something else - not the wind, though, because there is none to being with. The cold that suddenly is left behind from missing something, something that has had a place on your neck for years and years to come, never taking it off.
He has distracted you long and well enough to take it from you. Not realizing that he has opened it, but realizing now that it is gone, and it wasn't a moment ago. It was there. Because he was pointing at it, asking for it.
Stealing it.

The shiver running down your spine is a treacherous one, with his lips brushing over the skin on your ear. The physical contact, the touch, the faintest whisper of it - the question that is lingering why he is doing this to you. (And what exactly is he doing?) Questioning not only him but yourself as well, the reaction your body has, the pause before you take a step backwards.
Looking at him.
Holding out your hand, slowly. Paralyzed.
Imza
My necklace, please.
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RE: from your hands to the heavens - von Imzhora Moonsong - 26.03.2024, 00:23

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