As she raised her head, he saw it - her beauty was undeniable. Yet, there was something peculiar. Her face seemed clear as day, but simultaneously, it was a blur. Every time he tried to take in the details, they slipped away from him. It was as if her face was a fleeting memory, vanishing the moment he thought he had grasped it. Every second he looked at her, the next second he had forgotten what she looked like. This strange phenomenon left him disoriented, unsure of what was real and what wasn't.
She approached him, not a single word spoken and tackled him to the ground. This sent shivers down his spine as he was unaware of what would come next.
Her lips pressed against his with a feverish urgency, a cascade of kisses that left him dizzy. Her face remained a blur—shadows and shapes that refused to resolve into features, like a half-remembered dream. Yet her touch was undeniable, her hands roaming over his chest, his shoulders, pinning him to the cold, unyielding floor of this nowhere-place.
His mind scrambled to make sense of it, but his body had no such hesitation, responding with a heat that surged through him, instinctive and raw. He kissed her back, tentative at first, then with a hunger that surprised him, as if his lips knew something his mind couldn't grasp.Her breath was warm against his neck, a soft gasp escaping as she shifted, her body pressed closer. Her fingers tugged at the edges of her clothing—a loose, flowing garment that seemed to shimmer like liquid light, defying the logic of fabric. She pulled it away, letting it fall in a pool around them, revealing the curve of her shoulders, the arch of her spine, skin glowing faintly as if lit from within. The sight stole his breath. The air around them thickened, charged with an electric hum that seemed to pulse in time with their quickening breaths. His hands found her waist, hesitant, as if touching her might unravel the fragile reality holding them together. She guided him, her movements fluid and deliberate, like she was leading a dance he didn't know the steps to. "Don't think," she whispered, her voice a low, melodic echo that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Just feel." Her words dissolved his last shred of resistance. The world—the building, the questions swirling in his mind—faded to a distant hum. There was only her: the heat of her skin, the rhythm of her breath, the way her body moved against his, urgent and alive. His hands grew bolder, tracing the lines of her form, learning her in a way his eyes couldn't. The floor beneath them seemed to soften, or maybe it was the air itself, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth that blurred the edges of where he ended and she began.Their movements became a shared pulse, a give-and-take that felt less like desire and more like a necessity, as if this moment was the only thing anchoring them to existence. Her kisses deepened, each one pulling him further from thought, from doubt, until he was nothing but sensation—her touch, her scent, the soft sounds she made against his ear. Time lost meaning, stretched and folded like the space around them, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered what had happened and how he had gotten there.
Their shared rhythm slowed, breaths mingling in the heavy air before drifting apart. The heat between them ebbed, leaving a tingling afterglow that felt both vivid and unreal, like a memory borrowed from someone else. He lay still, his chest rising and falling, the floor beneath him now sharp and cold, as if the space had reclaimed its indifference. Her presence, so overwhelming moments ago, seemed to recede, though her warmth lingered on his skin like a fading promise.She moved first, rising with a grace that defied the strange, shifting architecture around them. Her face—still a mystery, her face a smudge of shadow—seemed to ripple as she stood, the faint glow of her skin catching the light that wasn't there. The garment she'd shed earlier now clung to her again, as if it had never left, its edges blurring into the haze. He pushed himself up, his limbs sluggish, the weight of the moment anchoring him to the spot. The act of standing felt foreign, like he was relearning his body in this nowhere-place.
As they sat in silence, the weight of their unspoken understanding hung in the air. He was still captivated by her elusive beauty, although he was unable to grasp the details of her face no matter how hard he tried. The seconds ticked by like hours, and yet, time seemed to stand still.
She broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm surprised there hasn't been a Fold...at least I had the little intimacy with you." The word intimacy hung in the air, leaving him wondering what she meant.
He understood the sentiment, but his mind was still reeling, unable to form words. She leaned in closer, her eyes locked on his, awaiting a response. "Just pick a language already," she said, her tone laced with a hint of urgency.
The words struck him like a slap, jolting him out of his trance. What was she talking about? His thoughts began to untangle, and his mind cleared. He realized he was aware of countless languages, but they swirled together in a maddening jumble, rendering him speechless.
And then, suddenly, the dam broke. Words began to form, sounds coalesced into language, and he spoke...
His voice was barely audible, a mere whisper. "I...I choose..." but then, just as he was about to speak, she leaned in closer, her breath on his skin. "Choose wisely," she whispered, her voice sending shivers down his spine. The moment hung suspended, like a held breath, as he prepared to make his choice...