#16 hilda/lys

Prompt: #16 Wild
Hilda/Lysithea


Lysithea doesn’t really like it when she has to strip, even though it is in front of Hilda.

It’s not like she is embarrassed to have those pink twinkling eyes to roam her eyes on her smaller, lithe figure—wait, exploring the concept like that surely makes her embarrassed, just by simply thinking about it. But no, it wasn’t the actual case.

Hilda was one to give Lysithea enough privacy when she is bathing, also Hilda would be patient enough to cater on her whims and only getting to the intimate moments when Lysithea is ready. Sometimes, Hilda does strike with an impression of impatience, knowing how she can’t stay still or being somewhat spiky and bubbly. Then again, Hilda is nowhere like such; she is an embodiment of patience, must Lysithea says, not to mention, her skill of persuasion makes her more than simply cunning.

Even though Lysithea was indeed the one who prompted the idea, she finds stripping with Hilda watching is … unsettling. Like shame suddenly draped on her alike a blanket. It’s not the first time that Hilda sees her bare—not exactly bare, just with a minimum amount of clothing, her cotton white undergarments are intact; yet, something just struck in her throat, she can’t speak, and Hilda got the clue.

“Lys.”

It was dark before their room, the light came from the night lamp on the table only enough for them to see each other, not the state of the room. Lysithea unbuttons the last part of her white shirt, Hilda is in front of her. There’s something on her pink irises that gleams strong, while on the same time it is muted, her desire is concealed, then a tinge of worry chimes in.

“… Are you sure?” Hilda asks.

Lysithea’s breaths catch in her throat. She can only muster a nod.

Hilda then reaches for her skin, to the carvings that started from her sternum, spreading down like some kind of plague, a shadow of the past she couldn’t overcome. The stitch mark should be long gone as she ages, however the scars already been deep, deep enough to be a part of her skin.

When Hilda sees this for the first time, also to the similar marks on her back, she doesn’t show any surprises, also not a disdainful look marring on her face. Her interest might expand more to jewelry, to the beauties of the world and fashion, but her first commentary after witnessing the crudeness, ugliness beneath the layers of clothing was not one with sugar-coated words of lies.

Hilda will loop her arms around her small hips, pulls Lysithea to her arms as she dips, pressing her soft lips on the face of the scar. Lysithea will freeze, hisses whilst the pinkette continues.

“You’re beautiful, Lys,” Hilda says the word again, and Lysithea is sure Hilda can hear how hard her heart beating for her. “Always, beautiful.”

The bed creaks slowly as they thread into the night, savoring in the dance of admiration.