The icy cool of the smooth glass soothed her burning skin for a fleeting moment before the tabletop began to burn with a fire all of its own. It ignited the throbbing of her temple which seemed to echo right through the whole structure, creating a hypnotic drumbeat pounding down to her fingertips. Oh, how she ached to scrape her burnished black nails across the sleek surface but Teagan refused to break the aloof pose. She lay, forehead pressed to her distorted reflection, determined to hold him with her green-eyed gaze. She would not even blink, not whilst he was trapped. The pounding of her heart ecstatically joined the rhythmic chorus as the blood pulsating through her veins leapt to consummate this ancient dance. To the onlooker it appeared she dare not breathe, her very stillness the ties that bound him, frozen. It was a war only one would win.
He sat, waiting, watching, willing her to break. Silently his dark eyes beseeched her: "Let me go, free me, give me the chance to dance once more in the sunlight..." Still she gave no mercy, showed no flicker of compassion for his pressing needs. He knew she would not grant him liberty, he could only pray for a fleeting chance to escape. Surely she could not stay encased and motionless forever, could she? Braedon allowed a shiver to break free to ease his fears. The sun would be setting soon and it would all be too late. Would no-one miss him? Was there no chance of reprieve? He swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. He would not give her the satisfaction of breaking his pride, he knew it was part of what she craved. Control, domination, debasement. He knew he could not show any weakness, he had to keep his turbulent emotions repressed, hidden away from her piercing stare. With a deep bracing breath he looked through the long black lashes, his malt whiskey eyes tremulously meeting her emerald green glare.
She stood, her dark tresses flowing forwards to frame her pale face. He started, too shaken by the sudden movement to try and escape, standing still imprisoned in her burning stare. He waited for the harsh chanted words that would destroy all hope. His breath came in fast shallow gasps, he wanted to cry.
She turned to him, her hand outstretched, her mouth began to move.
"Well, come on shrimp... you win, we'll go trick or treating now. Though I still think going out in the daylight sort of spoils the fun. But I guess you are allowed to be scared of the dark when you are six." His heart leapt with joy... Who said big sisters were no fun?
Day 1324 - The family lunch box - *This is what my kitchen bench looks like at 6.00am* The Deep Fried bench top at lunch preparation timeI haven't even had a cuppa yet, nor showered or eate...
7 hours ago