[ At the risk of sounding too sappy, his lips tingle in her absence and the wine does little to distract him from that fact. If Padmé was shade on a hot and sunny day, Yennefer is a blast of heat coming in from the cold- lingering and biting from the transition from too-cold to hot. No, blast-- stop that. He chides himself mentally for the comparison, wanting to further distance himself from everything in his past that simply doesn't matter anymore.
They both have the same amount of fiery give-and-take, the same defiance that comes from a life of hardship, of having to prove yourself and what you're capable of. It's their dirt caked under fingernails and the blood they shed is equally theirs and what stands in the way.
I’d be warned— I’m something of a nightmare when I’m pissed off. While he heeds the warning, Anakin does huff in amusement. Of that, he can be sure, just by being aware of who Yennefer is. Behind every powerful woman there is a deeply simmering rage waiting to explode from the heart, waiting for the correct amount of force. She's warm behind him and he hums contentedly, almost a reaction to hers. He's calm, nothing simmering below the surface, threatening to tear itself from under his skin. There's been a lot less of that since coming to Thorne. Since meeting Yennefer, and he has to at least acknowledge that specific point.
What he feels honestly makes him nervous, but he's never doubted taking the plunge before looking over the edge at the depth. Anakin clinks their glasses together gently, watching as she sips from her own glass. ]
There are a few things I wouldn't mind being a bit more open. [ His grin is wolfish, and the hand that isn't holding his wine slides under the open neckline of her robe. ]
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They both have the same amount of fiery give-and-take, the same defiance that comes from a life of hardship, of having to prove yourself and what you're capable of. It's their dirt caked under fingernails and the blood they shed is equally theirs and what stands in the way.
I’d be warned— I’m something of a nightmare when I’m pissed off. While he heeds the warning, Anakin does huff in amusement. Of that, he can be sure, just by being aware of who Yennefer is. Behind every powerful woman there is a deeply simmering rage waiting to explode from the heart, waiting for the correct amount of force. She's warm behind him and he hums contentedly, almost a reaction to hers. He's calm, nothing simmering below the surface, threatening to tear itself from under his skin. There's been a lot less of that since coming to Thorne. Since meeting Yennefer, and he has to at least acknowledge that specific point.
What he feels honestly makes him nervous, but he's never doubted taking the plunge before looking over the edge at the depth. Anakin clinks their glasses together gently, watching as she sips from her own glass. ]
There are a few things I wouldn't mind being a bit more open. [ His grin is wolfish, and the hand that isn't holding his wine slides under the open neckline of her robe. ]