6/17/2025, 8:37 PM
He awoke slowly, more gentle in his rest than his life had ever allowed him to be. It was like he was being pulled from a dream he did not wish to wake from, and it was only with a groan, annoyed and reluctant that he finally stirred.
Charcoal eyes slithered open as if it took true effort, freckled cheeks tightening as he drew in a heavy breath. There were no silk sheets. No lover’s lap. No warm light filtering through gold-draped windows. Just dirt…. Wet, stubborn dirt that clung to his cheek like a lover who didn’t know when to let go.
He didn’t remember falling asleep here, but Neven was no stranger to waking up in strange places. Where had he been last? A rooftop. A bed. A bottle. A blade? He couldn't recall—his mind still fogged with perfume and laughter, and the echo of something that might have been goodbye. Still, it didn’t stop the curious way his gaze drifted across the hills before him. Too many hills, stretched out like sighs, and painted in too-green grass, tall blades dancing gracefully in the wind as if beckoning him forward.
Neven didn’t listen. At least not yet.
A sound broke the hush—soft steps, and deeper breaths that made him wince. Ears twitched and his body tensed, before he was relaxing, almost on a practiced cue. His legs stretched beneath him, his jaws parting in a slow yawn.
A lazy grin twisted his features, and without even looking behind him, his voice rang out in a sweet and honeyed drawl, despite the ache in his chest, and the confusion still lingering on his brow.
Charcoal eyes slithered open as if it took true effort, freckled cheeks tightening as he drew in a heavy breath. There were no silk sheets. No lover’s lap. No warm light filtering through gold-draped windows. Just dirt…. Wet, stubborn dirt that clung to his cheek like a lover who didn’t know when to let go.
He didn’t remember falling asleep here, but Neven was no stranger to waking up in strange places. Where had he been last? A rooftop. A bed. A bottle. A blade? He couldn't recall—his mind still fogged with perfume and laughter, and the echo of something that might have been goodbye. Still, it didn’t stop the curious way his gaze drifted across the hills before him. Too many hills, stretched out like sighs, and painted in too-green grass, tall blades dancing gracefully in the wind as if beckoning him forward.
Neven didn’t listen. At least not yet.
A sound broke the hush—soft steps, and deeper breaths that made him wince. Ears twitched and his body tensed, before he was relaxing, almost on a practiced cue. His legs stretched beneath him, his jaws parting in a slow yawn.
A lazy grin twisted his features, and without even looking behind him, his voice rang out in a sweet and honeyed drawl, despite the ache in his chest, and the confusion still lingering on his brow.
Either I’ve died…or you’ve come to kiss me awake. I hope it’s the latter.