"When I was younger I was beautiful." her thin fingers curl around the lace of her bloomers, eyes shutting slowly as the snow falls against the clouded windowpane, resembling soft clouds clumping at the bottom of the sill. Her companion sits to the far side of her, watching her stare out the window with those large midnight pools for eyes, giant, gawking like a child at the first snow fall. She is the very depiction of beauty, flawed only just slightly by the way her brows knit and her nose scrunches as the roaring ashes from the fireplace fill the room's warm air. Anyone, even you, would think that she was barking mad when she starts with her words. "When I was younger I was agile, loving...my fingers were plump and belly a flop with jolly times. What happened to days such as those, Gregory?" Gregory dare not lip anything to his mistress as she fiddles her fingers across his, trailing the hairs of his arm with spider like resemblance. "When I was younger, I had many who wished for my hand...men who would go head to tail with anxiety at my very presence." ah, as they still do now, Gregory thought, biting his lip as her hand rested back on his own, gripping his thumb in that way he enjoyed, with the feeling of fullness that he wrapped his whole heart around.
With her other hand on the window she can feel the chill from the outside, and her breath speeds just a tad as her voice carries on. "I would pick them off one by one, not knowing a thing about them. So they liked cricket? As did my father. Ah, they could cook? So could I. I never...found anything unique of them, really." his heart fluttered under her grip, at the monotone dark voice that passed her curling petite lips came about mellifulously, like water that passes down the throat of a ration deprived sailor. "But you," there is a break in her voice as if something is caught in her throat, as if she is trying to assemble her words correctly, as if she would care if she were to offend him, if only she could. "You sit here and listen to me babble and blubber of things you know nothing of...and yet you look at me with full concentration, eyes dismissive to any of my sins and irratative tendancies. I am grateful." when one looks to speak to you, it is something you enjoy. And for Gregory, having her look straight to him as she spoke meant more to him than any other fortune that one man could never hold in his arms. "I am grateful for you." her smile came quickly after, a small pinch at the corners of her lips that blossomed fairly slowly as he could not hold himself back.
"I am grateful for you aswell." he had muttered, staring into those owl-like eyes, his lips just briskly falling across hers. It was not passionate, it was not rough, just a short, longing peck on the lips that would have sent her barking mad if not at the right moment. There was a clinging of her hand at his collar, of her leg riding up his own. In those moments, they were grateful as their lives filled with promise.
