kissing death and loosing my breath

Serafina was perhaps as acutely aware of the sensation of Azrael's palm as she placed her own slender fingertips within his. She always seemed so painfully aware any moment that their skin touched just as she too, in the back of her mind, always found her slate tinged gaze traveling towards his masculine figure any time the pair happened to exist within the same space. It was a magnetism she neither understood nor ever voiced the existence of. Not when her heart was so torn. Their species were meant to be pitted against each other and yet, against all odds, here they were all the same. Her stormy gaze glanced up to at his explanation of the auras he sensed upon the skin of other supernaturals and Serafina nodded in understanding. In some fashion or another, she had experienced this same noted phenomenon. For the young witch it was more of a feeling, a sensation that she simply experienced but could not explain. "I know what you mean." She responded simply, hardly bothering to voice that sometimes still nagging desire to run she so often pushed down and away. She was too getting better at ignoring what he was though unlike for him, his species did not hold decades of ingrained meaning. Perhaps in that fashion, her youth was a blessing.

Her gaze slowly rose upwards towards his as she interrupted, offering only a whispered, "I know." In fact, Serafina knew very well not only that Azrael hardly wished to harm her but she too knew those instincts must still be driving him onwards, clawing at them as they did her. She could see it in the way he flinched at her touch or shifted uncomfortably at her nearness. Still, her head tilted ever so slightly, a ghost of a simper crossing her fair features at his admittance that he might perhaps enjoy her presence enough to want his instincts dulled. His explanation was enough to caught the young woman to still at his request, her gaze never once leaving his figure as she watched him work with his own unseen magic. She waited for one seemed like a long breathless moment until a soft sound of satisfaction left his lips, causing them to twist in a fashion she'd seen so very rarely. He was smiling. It took her a moment longer still to realize that her own ingrained instincts of fear and fight had too dissipated into the air and softly she cooed in approval, "Good job."

A small simper crossed her own fair features as Serafina listened to the man's voice. Unlike her companion, she was all too aware of her hand still nestled softly within his though she made no efforts to remove it. Instead a soft giggle left her lips at his compliment, her perhaps confident and teasing nature slipping through, "You mean I wasn't always?" She inquired, her eyebrows raising in mock indignation. She was teasing him, naturally, and hoped that such demeanor wouldn't tarnish the fragile moment they were sharing. Her gaze shifted only to follow his own, glancing at the pot that had started such a fiasco to begin with. "Maybe." She whispered, gingerly reaching down to pick it up from where it had fallen. At her touch, the icicle surface seemed to melt, shifting to a warm temperature that seemed to match the warmth that too blossomed in her bosom. Her eyebrows furrowed momentarily, glancing at her fingertips with a vague sense of understanding. "All fixed!" She declared, glancing up at him with a look of hopeful satisfaction.