Short Drabble.
Hmm. I had an urge to write a drabble while I was sitting outside my house; trying to get get of this damn writer's block. Completely unbeta-d and therefore prone to mistakes; 'tis very badly written. Just bear with me, will you?
Quixotic Moments and Warm, Fuzzy Feelings.
by Lady of Masbolle
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“No, this couldn’t possibly be real,” She thought. Her mind seemed entirely chaotic, filled with hazy thoughts and half-dreams.
The blue-grey tint of the overcast sky, with the light peeking through timidly, was the usual for Britain in winter. A lazy, gentle breeze swept through, causing the surrounding plants to rustle slightly, and sent a soft ripple through the long grass in front of them; such as the flowing ripple sent through a crystal clear pond.
The warmth of his arm curling around her shoulders was oddly comforting; a delightful homey feeling that words simply could not describe.
His dreamer’s eyes; an addictive hazel shade, were hidden beneath thick, dark eyelashes; and his gaze only ever rested on her persona. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in the bottom of her stomach; she felt snug, cared for, and oddly enough, loved.
“Surely this scene wasn’t at all real,” she though drowsily; almost as if she was intoxicated by the evening’s events. ‘Twas another of those cringe-worthy romantic thoughts; which sent tingling shivers down her spine; coming back to haunt her; there was no other possible explanation. Well, in this dream-like state, no one could really distinguish reality from illusions.
She ran her petite hands through his chaotic hair, and mused whether one could attempt to tidy it; just for a little while. She soon ceased the action; preferring just to nestle into his shoulder contentedly.
“No,” she thought blearily, “this is definitely not real.”
Now, she was usually a woman of coherent, logical thoughts and rational explanations; but it seemed as if his presence had reduced her mental capability to that of a cement mailbox.
Perhaps, when her lips descended on her own, she had made this certain distinction; her arm came to rest shyly on his shoulder, while her lips tentatively met his.
No, this wasn’t the type of behaviour you’d expect from Lily Evans.
Then again, with these surreal moments and incoherency, one could never really be sure any more.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bad? Yes, I know. I just need some general comments until I get my "level" back up.
So, how is everyone?
Quixotic Moments and Warm, Fuzzy Feelings.
by Lady of Masbolle
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“No, this couldn’t possibly be real,” She thought. Her mind seemed entirely chaotic, filled with hazy thoughts and half-dreams.
The blue-grey tint of the overcast sky, with the light peeking through timidly, was the usual for Britain in winter. A lazy, gentle breeze swept through, causing the surrounding plants to rustle slightly, and sent a soft ripple through the long grass in front of them; such as the flowing ripple sent through a crystal clear pond.
The warmth of his arm curling around her shoulders was oddly comforting; a delightful homey feeling that words simply could not describe.
His dreamer’s eyes; an addictive hazel shade, were hidden beneath thick, dark eyelashes; and his gaze only ever rested on her persona. A warm, fuzzy feeling formed in the bottom of her stomach; she felt snug, cared for, and oddly enough, loved.
“Surely this scene wasn’t at all real,” she though drowsily; almost as if she was intoxicated by the evening’s events. ‘Twas another of those cringe-worthy romantic thoughts; which sent tingling shivers down her spine; coming back to haunt her; there was no other possible explanation. Well, in this dream-like state, no one could really distinguish reality from illusions.
She ran her petite hands through his chaotic hair, and mused whether one could attempt to tidy it; just for a little while. She soon ceased the action; preferring just to nestle into his shoulder contentedly.
“No,” she thought blearily, “this is definitely not real.”
Now, she was usually a woman of coherent, logical thoughts and rational explanations; but it seemed as if his presence had reduced her mental capability to that of a cement mailbox.
Perhaps, when her lips descended on her own, she had made this certain distinction; her arm came to rest shyly on his shoulder, while her lips tentatively met his.
No, this wasn’t the type of behaviour you’d expect from Lily Evans.
Then again, with these surreal moments and incoherency, one could never really be sure any more.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bad? Yes, I know. I just need some general comments until I get my "level" back up.
So, how is everyone?