Awakening.

Simply because. And my fingers were itching to write something so I decided to put whatever inspiration that is to good use. On another note, CSI last night was major-ly sweet! Sara and Gil Grissom ftw. (:

For someone who hardly reads chick-lit and almost never watches rom-coms, I am surprisingly adept at writing romance. Yes, I said it. I dunno where it comes from, so please, bear with me if I sounded overly Twilight at times. If Stephenie Meyer toned down the horror and do more research, perhaps the story might still be alright. See? I am not overly biased! But I still have no shame, evidently.

Call this a drabble, warm-up or whatever. It’s Cheri getting her writing streak back on.

*

Awakening

Thunder ripped through the air, renting the skies apart with brute force. Rain streamed from the heavens like blood from a wound, accompanied with flashes of lightning that temporarily illuminated the sombre land.

She gripped her arms in distress as the rain pounded against the roof. The sheer effort of her vice-like grip was enough to carve permanent marks into her skin. But pain was secondary to the angry roar of thunder, and the searing glare of light. Her heart pounded frantically against her ribcage, almost as if anticipating the next assault from her unseen assailant.

All but the rhythmic beating of the rain greeted her-the unmistakable smell of water against the earth was pungent in the stale, dry air. Darkness enveloped her slight frame as she allowed herself to be lulled into a stupor, as the rain continued to pour.

Then, the weather played its cruel joke. Lightning adorned the sky, followed by the ear-splitting clap of thunder. It was deafening-she instinctively made to cover her ears, but the shock from the boom was enough to stun her entire body.

It felt immensely stupid to scream after the thunder struck, but she did, as loudly as she dared. Eyes resolutely squeezed shut, the intensity of the lightning was seared into her mind. Stupefied by the bellow of thunder, her heart faltered momentarily as it pounded in erratic beats.

Then, there was another presence. Steady hands seized hers and attempted to pry them away from her ears. She resisted, but her opponent was stronger.

“Hush…” He whispered as he lowered her arms gently, coaxingly. “The thunder cannot harm you here.”

She inhaled sharply at the sound of his voice, allowing his words to slowly immerse themselves into her subconscious. She continued to remain blind to the speaker as her heart gradually resumed at its regular pace.

Cold, smooth hands laid themselves upon her face.

“Nothing can hurt you, not while I am here.” His quiet voice was only for her ears. He breathed them like a lullaby, a melody that she was well-attuned to. “Now, look at me.”

Gingerly, she allowed her vision to return. Just as he promised, he was there, as arcane and ethereal as the moon. Pale, dark haired, haunting like a ghost. But he was real, an entity that she could see, and feel. His eyes gleamed like green, phantom fire in the dark, but far from sinister. He was a figure in dark robes, a prince of darkness.

“I heard your cry,” He murmured. “You were having nightmares.”

“The thunder, I thought of… so many things.” She bit her lip. ” ‘Is that all we see or seem like a dream within a dream?’ ” Poe was always a favorite read, and now he seemed the most appropriate choice to cite.

He glanced briefly towards the rain and the darkness beyond. His expression betrayed nothing of what could be brewing beneath.

“Thunder is all but a sound. Everything you’re seeing in your head is all but your own imagination.” A teasing smirk tugged at his lips. “Nothing I assure that I cannot drive away. I, however, am no dream.”

She nodded slowly, clutching onto his words as if they were her lifeline. Everything will be alright. This was not a figment of her mind’s eye. Almost as if to reassure herself, she closed her eyes, and opened them again. And he was still in front of her, unmoving.

“I will do anything for you,” He intoned as he raised her hand to his lips. They were as cold as ice, taming her frenzied heart. “Your nightmares, your pain, I will chase them away to the ends of the earth.”

His reassurance soothed her fervent anxiety somewhat as she felt a blush coming to her cheeks. Mortified, she averted her gaze to the floor, appalled by her childishness. Her antics brought a low chuckle from him.

“My heart is ever, at your service.” He drew her close, as he spoke his next words like inciting a poem. A poem that was penned for her. “And no one can deny me of my entitlement.”

She wrapped her arms around him as far as she could muster, resting her head against his chest. The faint, unmistakable tempo of his heart was palpable. He was real, and he was hers.

“I, Loki Laufeyson, pledge myself to you, forevermore. My love for you will never waver, as long as I shall live.” His kiss lingered on her skin, wintry yet it burned with the authority of his vow.

His words echoed like bells in the empty space. She looked into his eyes and exhaled, calmly, contently. His smile, wondrously roguish, prompted her on.

To which she replied with the words of Shakespeare, “I’ll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I’ll die by your hand which I love so well.”

Loki’s eyes flickered with triumph. There was a trace of thirst in his expression as the covenant was sealed.

“And now, I consider our bond complete.” He whispered with barely masked mirth as he approached to claim his prize.

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