( a zing of electricity goes up her spine at the order, eyes flying to his with the the doe-eyed look of someone finding out their inner most thoughts are written across their body in permanent marker. her chest rises and falls, staring at him. he's attractive — beyond, even, almost godly. and he's nice, charming, not at all like the stern cruelty of mark, from the one and only time isolde has ever had sex. it's all been explored, though. what was meant to be an education for a feigned display of togetherness, ended up being an awakening for her. isolde likes being put in her place. likes being ordered, degraded, and hurt. she feels her heart rattling around in her ribcage at the thought of feeling that again.
after a beat, she moves to set the jug down, but not before pouring a gilded wine glass full. she approaches him, swallowing dryly, before sinking down on her knees, offering him the glass. the floor is hard, cold, and unforgiving beneath her knees. satisfaction bubbles up her throat in a soft, pleased sigh. )
I like learning. ( she says lamely, and then offers him a wry smile. isolde has a lot to feel guilty over — being awkward is just another thing on the list. ) You know. I'm a good student, I mean.
no subject
after a beat, she moves to set the jug down, but not before pouring a gilded wine glass full. she approaches him, swallowing dryly, before sinking down on her knees, offering him the glass. the floor is hard, cold, and unforgiving beneath her knees. satisfaction bubbles up her throat in a soft, pleased sigh. )
I like learning. ( she says lamely, and then offers him a wry smile. isolde has a lot to feel guilty over — being awkward is just another thing on the list. ) You know. I'm a good student, I mean.