Recent content by Mylo

Mylo smiled faintly at her words, though there was a wistfulness in it, a quiet kind of ache that lingered behind his eyes. A lust for power, when he'd always felt so powerless, perhaps. “Hm…” he murmured, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. “Maybe it’s better we lost it. We’d only have found...

He was in a dream, drifting somewhere between waking and the soft haze she’d left behind on his lips. The world beyond her felt unreal, the faint lamplight, the smell of linen and medicinal herbs and lilac perfume.. but she was real. Her hand, warm and delicate, fit perfectly in his as he took...

When she touched his face, his eyes fluttered open, wide, awed, boyish again. Her thumb against his cheekbone made his breath hitch. Dreamer, she called him, Her dreamer. He’d never been called anything so soft in his life. Had never been claimed by words either. Hers. Gods... if only. “And...

…He made her smile. Mylo’s chest felt too small for what swelled inside it. He hadn’t known warmth like this, hadn’t known he could feel it. But there she was, so close that he could feel her breath ghost across his lips, her perfume soft as a memory of spring after a lifetime of winters. He...

He watched her with quiet wonder as she spoke, her voice soft and lilting, her laughter bright. Mylo listened as if each word were a thread weaving its way through the dark parts of him, pulling light into places that hadn’t seen it in years. Gods, how easily she spoke of joy. Of family, of...

The tension bled out of him the moment she said alright. Mylo’s shoulders sagged with quiet relief, and the air that had caught painfully in his chest finally slipped free. His lips curved faintly as he watched her draw closer again, settling back into the chair at his side. For a while, he just...

'You will not need to hear from me again..' “Well… that is a heartbreaking thought,” Mylo said softly. His throat ached as the words left him, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. The idea of her walking away, of never hearing her voice again, it twisted something deep inside him that he didn’t...

Oh gods, no. The look on her face. The way the brightness in her eyes dimmed with sadness.. it gutted him. He had done that, all by denying her the simple wish to help. That she’d wanted to help him at all meant more than he could ever say, more than anyone had made him feel in a very long...

He was studying her right back. The way her lashes fluttered when she tried to avoid his gaze, the way her voice trembled only slightly when she spoke his name. He was more than certain that she looked far, far better than he did. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, the pallor of fever still...

He had no right to feel this content, not here, not now, but the feeling rooted itself in his chest all the same. Mylo sighed deeply, his tired smile still etched upon his lips, dimpling faintly at his cheek as he looked at her. Gods, she made it too easy to forget where he was, to forget the...

Gods, not just one kiss, but two. The ghost of her lips lingered on his skin long after she’d pulled away, burning there like a memory he’d never let fade. Another smile, too, bright and unguarded, and he could swear the gods were mocking him with how blessed he felt, lying half dead and still...

Gods, his heart nearly stopped when her lips brushed against the back of his hand; soft, fleeting, impossibly gentle. For a moment, he could only stare, caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. Mylo... Mylo... The way she said his name, and that laugh, that soft, melodic chime rippled through...

Her hand was small in his, delicate and soft and real. It felt like something sacred, something he had no right to touch. Mylo’s fingers twitched faintly beneath hers, the roughness of his skin against her softness a cruel reminder of what he was, of what he had done. She held him anyway. As...

Mylo exhaled slowly, the tension easing from his limbs as the fever’s grip loosened in her presence. The sound of her voice anchored him, so soft, distant, yet familiar. The cool press of the cloth against his burning skin drew a shuddering sigh from his chest, and for the first time in hours...

Mylo stirred, his body restless beneath the thin blanket as fever dreams tangled with memories. He muttered something low under his breath, his lips barely moving. His chest rose and fell too fast, sweat slicking his temples and soaking into the collar of his shift. The manacle around his wrist...