The Gardens

[shelley_winters]

It is raining heavily outside, clouds blotting out all signs of the moon or stars. The wet scent of the garden in the lightning-charged air is almost palpable.

Icy droplets pelt downwards as Shelley stands frozen, outlined against the faint light coming from the open door a little way behind her. If she's shaking, it's not from the cold.

DA

She can't leave. She can't go back in there.

(tentative lips just brushing hers)

No. Oh, no.

She can walk, out here. Even if he can find her anywhere, it's dark and the robe she wears - his robe - is black. The garden will hide her long enough.

Comments

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

A figure in white seems to fade in from the shadows of the garden. Sitting with legs crossed on piece of broken stone. Hair damp with rain and robe cool in the rain. His blue eyes watching her coolly. He had been there for some time. Hands folded in his lap, listening to the sound of thunder. Water dripping off the loose, black curls.

He should have known better really. Close, close. She had started to close her eyes before she panicked. Close. The impatient drumming of a finger on his thigh. It had been so close, and so wonderful. No matter, he had time.

A small cloud of condensation in the air as he breathed out a sigh. A drop of water clung to the end of his nose as he thought. There would be time yet.