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  • A Storm Stopped


    Maree'Anca Marin

    Recommended Posts

    May 11th, 2022

    5:30am

    DeClan's Apartment

     

     

    Up for a half hour already, coffee was brewing quietly. Instead of hovering over it, the lithe form slid back beneath the warm sheets. Lying on her side, it was cathartic watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He would never believe it, but the furl of his brow disappeared while he was asleep, as did the tension in his shoulders. Truly peaceful. She would let him sleep a bit more, an itch to paint had woken her up before dawn. Leaning up when the coffee pot gurgled to a stop, lips were pressed softly on his forehead. Fingertips traced across the back of his hand and she slid from bed to retrieve a fresh cup of coffee.

     

    Bare feet whispered across the floor, coffee in hand as the heated curls of steam drifted lazily past her face. Taking a sip, she watched the horizon from the wall of windows. The ocean was still sullen, cold from its winter slumber. It made the glow just above the water so much more brilliant as the sun came closer to crossing the threshold. White button up was the only thing she wore over a baby blue cami and shorts, curls in a lazy braid that was somewhere between being completely free and a ponytail. They were drifting back to their fiery red. It was time to dye them again. Especially now.

     

    The Order had been on her mind. The missing. It was hard not to keep her finger on the pulse of the people she was hiding from. How to stay up with happenings and not draw attention to herself? She hadn't figured that out yet.

     

    One more sip from her coffee and she slid into her chair, placing the mug on the small table in the corner that held her paints next to a small easel. He'd offered a room, but there was something about climbing out of bed when the mood struck at a moment's notice. That had been at night lately, just before dawn. Sometimes, she even painted in the dark by city light. Water color was her current medium of choice. The loose colors, soft edges. She'd been working on the skyline for a few days, the horizon never quite right. Today it was warm, the peaches and haze perfect as she tucked up one foot beneath her leg to swish water over her brush, loose foot swinging lazily right above the floor as she mixed her colors.

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