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Erebos (the__dark__one) wrote in paxletalelogs,

"Ms. St. Giles," he said, remembering something that did not quite belong to him. It was important. But it was not his. Ms. St. Giles. The name, the lady in the dark. She felt like Nyxie. Was that woman's name the name of the mortal through whom Nyxie had found herself living? Then, as another waft of memory breezed through his head, he chuckled - dark velvet over stone, the sound. "Hard-to-get Ms. St. Giles, is it?" He turned and hauled Nyx bodily into his lap, possessively arranging her just so. "She must know all that running is futile."

And with his other half facing him in such an intimate position, now seemed a good time to stop talking. For a long. Warm. Delicious. Moment. Her mouth could never have tasted so sweetly as it did now -- now, after the desert of their separation, their pasts far behind them and the rest of eternity far ahead. He would fight to the ending of the stars to keep them together. If nothing in the waking world but the reticence two foolish mortals separated them now, then the battle was assured. He would have Nyx. He would have her. He told her this in his own way -- without words.

"We will not sleep," he determined, when they parted. A gentle hand brushed the nape of her neck. "We will not. And once we are together again, we will call our children to us."