m e l l i f l u o u s
(muh - lif - loo - uhs)

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19 & a she — avid writer — lithuanian — artist — dinosaur enthusiast

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the wind tousled low between the skeletal groves, carrying with it the odour of oncoming frost. she stood there, still, poised, a silhouette of winter itself beneath the dim blanket of twilight. her breath hung overtly in the air, leisurely and rhythmic, as though drawn from some place deeper than her lungs. he came to her side without a sound, his strides leaden with distance travelled, but his eyes softened upon her like the hush of the pristine snowfall.

"you always find the coldest places to think,” he murmured, voice dulcet, laced with wry fondness.

she did not look at him, not at first. "it's where things are clearest. where silence speaks."

a pause. he drew nearer, grazing his snout beneath her lower maw; the gesture was silent but certain. "then let me be your silence."

a frangible sneer curved the corner of her lips. "you've never been quiet a day in your life."

he gave a short huff of mirth, then leaned into her, letting the silence down them whole. above them, the wellkin stretched silver and wide, and for a moment, there was no war, no hunger, no past. only breath, only fur against fur, only the steadiness of two wolves finding warmth in the cold.

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all art was made by me.