<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=12766.msg530746#msg530746">Quote from: Amberghylles on 19-02-2008, 23:26:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Anastasuis smiled down at her.  Seeing the distrust in her gaze, he lifted the skin and sipped from it first, giving a sigh as he swallowed a hearty mouthful of the sweet wine.<br/><br/>"I offer you the gift of Bacchus," he said softly as he let a small amount pour into her mouth.  "Red as the blood of the twice born god and keeper of the secrets retrieved from the underworld."<br/><br/>His voice was even, monotone and droning.<br/><br/>"Receive the gift of Dionysus..."  Another sip poured into her waiting mouth.<br/><br/>"The fruit of the vine... blessed by the lord of the hunt... the gift of Bacchus... the gift of Dionysus..."  A small sip at each pause, careful not to pour more than her sore and dry throat could swallow.<br/><br/>Then he lifted the wineskin and took a deep pull, but rather than swallow it, he leaned down and kissed her, letting the wine flow from his mouth to hers abruptly.  <br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>She drank the little mouthfuls of wine he gave her with a restrained eagerness; it had been at least a day since she'd properly slaked her thirst with more than blood. The tart liquid stung her raw gums afresh, but she did not care, though his droning words made her knit her brow. The care with which he poured was unexpected, given his earlier disdain for her body, her thirst, her comfort-<br/><br/>And then his mouth was upon her own, letting the wine he'd drawn pour forth, and she could only choke upon it or swallow - and so though her limbs went tight with agitation, she opened her throat, the wine pouring freely down to mix with her own blood in her gullet.<br/><br/>She was fully prepared to snap at the man, to bite at his lips with what teeth remained to her, and perhaps tear loose one of his lips in the process... but the wine was a distraction, and with surprising rapidity it suffused her with its fermented warmth, seeming to radiating the heat of a langorous summer's day gently throughout.<br/><br/>A most peculiar thought came upon her... as if she were like the vine that sprouted the grape that eventually formed the wine, she could twist and change, and yet still be her essential self. After all, even without the teeth he'd torn from her, was she not still Atnorsa at the heart of herself. That gap, too, felt oddly soothed by the fluid that had been warmed by his mouth - less painful, more of a salve.<br/><br/>If he were to pull away, he would see for the first time her expression softene,d inexplicably free of worry - and a curious, almost bemused light in her eyes, as if she'd decided that reality itself around her were somewhat unreal, less than solid.