[A good thing that it had, honestly, because Benedikta had been so lost in him that she had forgotten herself. Again. So lost that, now that she's pulled free from that spell he so often places upon her with his mere presence, she doesn't even know what she had meant to say—her lips doing so much of the talking without saying a word... until they did. Almost.
And that terrifies her.
She could fault Garuda for that wind, and maybe in part, she is to blame. It would be easier to pin it on her, would it not? Rather than say that it was Benedikta—that some deep part in her soul knew she was not prepared for those feelings to come to light—that it was the harpy reminding her not to fall for it.
Though, she knows that he knows.
Even still...
Now they find themselves in an even more delicate position: with him nearly knocked back and Benedikta's hands braced on either side of him, her face just inches from his, their mingling, tattered breaths tickling the sensitive, swollen flesh of her lips.]
no subject
And that terrifies her.
She could fault Garuda for that wind, and maybe in part, she is to blame. It would be easier to pin it on her, would it not? Rather than say that it was Benedikta—that some deep part in her soul knew she was not prepared for those feelings to come to light—that it was the harpy reminding her not to fall for it.
Though, she knows that he knows.
Even still...
Now they find themselves in an even more delicate position: with him nearly knocked back and Benedikta's hands braced on either side of him, her face just inches from his, their mingling, tattered breaths tickling the sensitive, swollen flesh of her lips.]
... I am. I don't...
[She mutters, dropping her gaze from his.]