❃ The Violinist and His Painter ❃
"Am I?" She challenged, she could tell his eyes dark with anger and lust even though she was blinded by a silk piece of ribbon. Mireia knew she was pushing his buttons; felt the strong desire to push him to the very...
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HE had never seen such beauty before his eyes. He knew that the Lady Perales was an attractive maiden as gossip travelled far and wide but he had never found the chance to see her up close.
Such a view as if made by nature itself. A mix of the richest soils of the Earth and the golden sand of Arabia. Ezequiel never took his eyes away from the elegant lady.
Even though his mother had expected him to be back soon, the brewing storm had given out its final warning to the residence, Ezequiel didn't mind being a victim in both his mother's taunt and the rage from the rain.
For all, he knew it would be worth it. At least, he got the chance to meet an extraordinary beauty. At least he saw her.
Her elegance as she walked back into her carriage held so much authority yet modesty, captivating him in a way that no other maiden had before. Ezequiel came across many women since his father was a shoemaker.
Not one seemed to enchant him. The flirty glances to the fake giggles would make Ezequiel roll his eyes in displeasure. His mother would nudge him upon seeing a girl she liked, but Ezequiel didn't feel a spark like he was feeling right now.
Noticing her foot slip onto the unfinished road, Ezequiel quickly aided her. Ezequiel placed his hand appropriately around her waist and interlocked hands with her. Barely anyone was out to see the sin he had committed. They all obeyed the storm's orders while he rebelled against it.
Her eyes closed in fear. No, he didn't want them to be closed, he wanted to see them, he craved to see those eyes that were filled with sandalwood. "Oh!" She groaned, grasping at Ezequiel's arms, clenching both hands while leaning into his firm chest. Ezequiel felt himself become rigid, he never had a female touch him like this.
"My lady, are you alright?" Ezequiel asked, waiting for her response, her grip loosened. As soon as her eyes opened and as if on demand nature had released its rage. Rain cleansing both of them, thunder clattering, pathways of illuminating lights pounded in the sky as a battle had commenced.
Those eyes were so purifying and to have his ones staring into her soul felt wrong. No, it felt sinful. His mind and body felt at war with one another. "I am incredibly sorry, Sir," Fuck, those words that escaped her mouth felt too pure, too innocent and one unholy temptation lingered in the back of his mind.
To taint her. To steal her.
A battle had commenced. Not with nature but with himself. Ezequiel's sanity was on the brink of eruption. "My lady, are you hurt by any chance?" Shaking her head she muttered an inaudible 'no' as thunder roared.
"Lady, you must seek shelter, it isn't safe for you to be out here." Ezequiel had no jacket to shelter them from the rain but helped her on her carriage, "Lady Perales, apologies, I will deliver you home, right now." The coachman exclaimed before getting the horses ready.
"Sir, take this, please." Lady Perales said, draping her shawl, she had left in the carriage, over Ezequiel, "What is your name?" She asked politely, Ezequiel quickly tucked her overflowing dress inside before looking up to see those umber eyes once again.
Ezequiel enjoyed the taste of 'Sir' on her lips but he craved to know what his name sounded like on her tongue. He wanted to imagine how good it would sound to have her whisper it in her most desirable form.
"Ezequiel." The whip smacking onto the horse had notified them both, time was up. They had to part ways. "Until next time, Lady," Ezequiel smiled, gently taking her hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her hand before hopping off the carriage.
"Mireia. My name." Mireia, he whispered. So addictive. Ezequiel's mind began to chant the goddess's name and smiling like a boy, he thrust his fingers through his dishevelled hair, raking them backwards.
He quickly sprinted, trying to catch up with the carriage. Mireia smiled, Ezequiel took in every feature of her. Her wet hair displayed around her face, frizzing up, her cheeks red from the blistering coldness of the wind.
"When will I see you again?" He shouted, Mireia's cheeks darkened with a beautiful blush. "Soon." Ezequiel noticed the gate where it separated him and her from meeting. A small prick from her rose had consumed in a slumber of desire.
"Adiós, Ezequiel, hasta la próxima vez!" She exclaimed, smiling with such a smile that pierced Ezequiel's heart with happiness. "Adios, Mireia." He whispered, stopping in his tracks at the gate.
(T: Goodbye, Ezequiel, until next time!)
The carriage faded away but his smile still remained on his face. Embracing the showers of rain, Ezequiel sighed and breathed in the petrichor laced with her scent. Her shawl.
Ezequiel quickly sprinted home, so the shawl wouldn't become damaged. "Hijo, dónde estabas?" His mama asked, Ezequiel kissed both sides of her face before replying. "Near the florist." He lied, Ezequiel's mind focused on the shawl in his hands before putting it on the rack near the fireplace.
(T: Son, where were you?)
"Who's shawl is that, hijo?" His mama said, rubbing his back as he gawked at the shawl like it was the most wanted shawl in the world and he had to keep it safe. "Lady Perales." A gasp from his mother had sent his eyes looking in her direction.
"Hijo, you didn't steal it, did you?" Ezequiel chuckled, "No, mama, she gave it to me." Ezequiel told her everything, everything his heart couldn't encapsulate. Even his Papa couldn't believe it. The question of 'how she looked like' made the word 'beautiful' an understatement.
He wanted to tell them, her skin was like the glow from the moon, where no clouds concealed its beauty. Her smile was like the flame from the candle, illuminating a cold and empty room with its warmth. He refrained from revealing the treasure he found.
That night, Ezequiel had a restless one. His mind was so consumed with how the beauty of Mireia Perales captured his attention like no other maiden in the town. The moon shone brightly from his room and it was only then that he realised that the moon would be his diary.
Ezequiel wanted to scribble all of the unspoken words they shared together. He had an urge to write about every fine detail about her and remember it whilst playing a delicate song to the moon. The bow would skim ever so smoothly against the strings of the violin, imagining the tenderness of her skin.
After all, he believed the moon was her reflection and every night, she would be his sweet torment, waiting to hear another song. Another yearn.
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Sorry for the long update but do check out 'Dancing to the Sinner's Tunes' I frequently update that one. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and see you in the next one!
