(( Oh. Right. Thanks! Wait! As you read my post, listen to Animal by Kesha on Youtube. It sets the mood. TRUST ME))
Salem reached the tree, his long hands running over its bark, as if recognizing it, remembering it. He sniffed in deeply, and the air smelled strongly of the dry, dusty earth and rain. A strong wind felt his body, billowing his pants tight against him. It brought with it a scattering of drops that were icy fingers on his bare chest. Under the shelter of the willow tree, he sat with his back against the trunk, staring over the edge of the ridge to flatland and the horizon, which was dark with oncoming clouds. Silhouetting the clouds was a faint red light, signaling dawn's break of arrival was due within an hour or so. The wind rose in intensity and speed, raking through the draping vines of the willow and sending them off in every different direction, as if they did not want to bend to the wind's power. Salem himself was quite a sight; his shaggy hair was sticking up with sweat and the breeze, and his face was wild, golden eyes lit up slits, lip pale and curled back in a sort of wolfish growl-smile. His neck has a long, thin scratch that he had probably received tree hopping, but it was healing quickly, fading already. His fingers were smudged with dirt and dust, as was most of his exposed, tan body, and he was trembling slightly with anticipation for the coming storm. The air crackled with static, and it felt a different world entirely than that of the far-off forest. This willow was the only proof it was anywhere near. The rest of the land was rough countryside, but more trees were far off in the west, a good day's travel away for a werewolf. Orange and red like flame, the rocks were chilling to Salem's bare feet, as they had been cooled by the night. The storm blasted a misty sheen again; it was visible hunched on the horizon. Dust and some stray grass swirled in the air. Salem grinned, obviously loving the weather. He barely noticed Emerald's exhaustion. His was nowhere to be seen. Actually, he felt more alive than ever in these wee hours of the before-morning. His teeth glinted and he leaned towards the west, standing again and balancing on the edge of the cliff that led down the ridge. He faced the storm, forcing himself into the wind, the willow's branches parting around him and flicking his muscular back. He licked his lips, hands tensing and curling like claws. He howled from deep in his chest, and ache in the sound that was longing. He hungered for flesh and blood, for the hunt, for his wolf instincts to take over. He desperately wished to bound off into the night and relish in his freedom, that he alone had. Even Emerald was tied back slightly by her feelings for Peter. Salem was glad that he would never be bound by that. What he didn't realize was that, under his skin somewhere, a tiny fragment of him was dedicated to Emerald already. Thinking of her, he turned to stare at her, his golden gaze like liquid fire. He stepped closer and appraised her with a hopeful look on his handsomely chiseled face. Her skin was fair compared to his darkness, and her green eyes were large and full of beauty. Her silken hair made him want to reach out and touch it. Her lips were small and perfect, her eyelashes long. Her dress was a cloud around her small frame, rustling in the wind. She looked so much more delicate than he knew she was, a doll standing with a beast. Impulse came over Salem and he said her name through the roaring wind. He stepped closer again, his attention divided, but his eyes were set on Emerald. Salem knew his composure was slipping. He knew that his hard-earned shell of calmness and authority was slipping. But right now he didn't care; the night was taking over his mind. He still had his power. He reached for Emerald and bent her head towards his to whisper in her ear, where her neck created a soft cradle away from the wind and dust and world. He had realized something amazing tonight, something that, in all his years, he hadn't thought about before. Even with his crazed, unusual, advanced way of thinking, this had been lost in the lessons of life. He was about to offer this new found piece of advice into her ear, breath coming quick and rough against her jawline. As he opened his mouth to speak the first word, as he was trying to piece together how to tell her, he remembered how he had briefly kissed that exact spot of her neck, and everything fit into place. "Another lesson of freedom," he told her quietly, the wind lapping at his ears, "Sometimes, no matter how weak it seems, no matter how hard you fight it, to be free, you must let yourself feel." His mouth lingered by her ear for a minute, but then another flash of boldness gripped him, and he turned his head to press his lips firmly against Emerald's, latching on with everything he had. Her lips were cool and soft, and he lost himself with her, draping his arms around her waist and pulling her form against him tightly. There was a hint of desperation and need in his actions that he didn't quite understand yet. His breath was shallow, his lips working against Emerald's. He nibbled her upper lip lightly, his eyes fluttering open and basking in the light of her face. She smelled lightly of clover, something he hadn't noticed before because of his strongly intoxicating scent of both smoke and dog. She tasted of fresh air. Salem shivered slightly, working one hand up to twine his fingers through her locks, and closed his eyes again, groaning softly. There they stood, on the brink of a storm and a cliff, together, as lightning flashed far off and rain began to rumble towards them, and a tunnel of red earth and willow branches danced in the air.
by Harkness<3 » Mon Jan 02, 2012 11:02 am 
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