[She grumbles unintelligibly in protest, turning as he moves; her hand unconsciously reaches for him, fingers brushing against his clothes, but unable to find purchase before he's moved out of her range.
When her arm drops, hand dangling over the edge, she forces herself to start waking up and taking stock of the situation. Had she been reaching for someone? She totally had been. Yuri frowns lightly, feeling like she hasn't gotten nearly enough sleep to be functional for this, and turns back over, burying her face in the pillows.
She has the passing, absent thought that it smells like Ukoku and--
Ukoku.
Her eyes snap open and she stares at the wall in frozen mortification. She was still in his temple. In his room. In his bed. Yuri sits up and looks around, suddenly remembering everything that led up to it and the fact her plan of leaving once he was asleep had never come to completion thanks to her falling asleep herself.
Fuck.
She'd kissed him, right? That had happened. She presses her fingertips to her mouth and blushes and frets-- this would only be awkward if she made it awkward, but it was a little awkward and what was she supposed to do now? Try to explain herself? Never bring it up again in the hopes he won't remember through the haze of alcohol? Maybe she should leave. She could leave. But she can't just walk through the door (briefly, in her head, a montage of trying to sneak her way out of the temple through the front door like it's some ninja stealth mission from a video game; she's got a heart meter and everything).
No, no, front door was out, he'd catch her, probably and then she'd have to explain that. So no front door, which left...The window!? Was there a window she could climb out of? Was that somehow less awkward than trying to waltz out the front door?
it takes another moment before she suddenly sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of her nose. Teleport. She was a god, and she could teleport. Why did she always forget that? Fuck. She takes a breath and lowers her hand, already beginning to think of her temple. That'd be the best place to go. And then she could just pretend a good chunk of this night never happened. Perfect.]
no subject
When her arm drops, hand dangling over the edge, she forces herself to start waking up and taking stock of the situation. Had she been reaching for someone? She totally had been. Yuri frowns lightly, feeling like she hasn't gotten nearly enough sleep to be functional for this, and turns back over, burying her face in the pillows.
She has the passing, absent thought that it smells like Ukoku and--
Ukoku.
Her eyes snap open and she stares at the wall in frozen mortification. She was still in his temple. In his room. In his bed. Yuri sits up and looks around, suddenly remembering everything that led up to it and the fact her plan of leaving once he was asleep had never come to completion thanks to her falling asleep herself.
Fuck.
She'd kissed him, right? That had happened. She presses her fingertips to her mouth and blushes and frets-- this would only be awkward if she made it awkward, but it was a little awkward and what was she supposed to do now? Try to explain herself? Never bring it up again in the hopes he won't remember through the haze of alcohol? Maybe she should leave. She could leave. But she can't just walk through the door (briefly, in her head, a montage of trying to sneak her way out of the temple through the front door like it's some ninja stealth mission from a video game; she's got a heart meter and everything).
No, no, front door was out, he'd catch her, probably and then she'd have to explain that. So no front door, which left...The window!? Was there a window she could climb out of? Was that somehow less awkward than trying to waltz out the front door?
it takes another moment before she suddenly sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of her nose. Teleport. She was a god, and she could teleport. Why did she always forget that? Fuck. She takes a breath and lowers her hand, already beginning to think of her temple. That'd be the best place to go. And then she could just pretend a good chunk of this night never happened. Perfect.]