Tacit

Seol imagines him at the edge of a dream, calloused fingers trailing over the shell of her ear and dipping down her throat, tangling in her hair. The dreams bleed into reality and the two merge together. She is no longer certain if it is in her dreams that he untucks her hair ever so gently. Hunting for pins along the braids and fishing them out. Undoing the clasp of her earrings and fingers trailing along the shell of her ear. Seol shivers at that touch and his laugh warm and low pours into her ear. 

In her dreams he carries the scent of fire and earth, he leaves a trail of heat along his touch. She dreams of a war ages old, a battle eve half forgotten. She dreams of those silver eyes glassy and reflecting stars overhead. Her heart aches with a loss she could only half remember.