Soft, mirthful laughter emanates from her lips as his massive arms come around her tightly. His dark skin contrasting almost perfectly with her milky white flesh, their fingers touching one another tenderly as if amazed by the feeling of each other.
"Anya, what have you gotten yourself into?" His deep baritone voice says scoldingly, and yet he cannot hide the lilt of happiness in his thick accent. "You nu did all this just to see me again, da?"
"Everything I've ever done has been for you."
The rain pelted down onto her barely clad form, causing the thin fabric to stick to her. Her usually bright green eyes, now dull from so much mistreatment recently, glanced next to her as Corporal Eugen Dumitrascu lead her by the arm towards the massive wooden gates to the Citadel. Anya's heart was beating quickly in her chest, the thump of the muscle ringing in her ear as they drew ever nearer to their destination. The gates swung open with a loud, ominous creaking sound and suddenly she was assaulted by the many hushed murmur's of the nearby crowd of peasants and adventurers alike.
Eugen lead her down the stone road, guards lining the way on both sides....at the end, a simple chunk of wood with a sharpened axe protruding out of it. At the sight her breath hitched in her throat and refused to come out again as she was dragged towards her end. Pushing her towards the chopping block, Eugen began shouting out her crime to the crowd, getting them riled up.
"Anya Vadim is to be executed for the crime of assaulting garda with witch craft..."
She brushes her lips against his softly, unable to stop the smile that continuously seems to creep onto them. His strong hands gently land on either side of her face, cupping it, chocolate eyes staring into emerald.
"Where are we Dragos?" the woman murmured softly, her words echoing airily around them. He gently places a rough finger over her lips, silencing her, a coy smile on his face.
"We are wherever you wish to be Anya, it has always been that way."
The rain never ceasing once as she stood just in front of Eugen, the sound of a nearby Priest could be heard as she shouted for her to repent and save her soul. Her soul was too far gone, there was no chance. She steeled her jaw as her eyes landed on a peasant in front of her who had bent down to pick up a rock, she knew what was coming next. True to form, the peasant lobbed the rock at her, his aim far from perfect as it made contact with her shoulder. Anya let out a grunt, gritting her teeth tightly together. Another rock came flying towards her from the opposite direction, thrown from one of her own people...an adventurer. This one managed to hit home, leaving almost an instant bruise on her rib cage.
It was then that Eugen forced her down, her knee caps hitting the stone's under foot with a loud crack and Anya letting out a pained wince. His fingers entwined in her hair as he brutally yanked her head back, their eyes locking. "Do you have any last words, witch?" He snarled out darkly.
Tears of sadness mixed with terror were now flowing freely from her eyes, staining her pale face. Her lips trembling violently as she forced the words past them with strain.
"I am not a witch, and you know whot ah did was roight. You will dream o' this fer tha rest o' yer loife." Eugen snapped at this sentiment. "Nu curse me with your varja!" Gripping the handle of the axe, he yanked it out of the stump with all his might before slamming Anya's head down where the weapon just stood. With her head placed down on the chopping block, she only had one direction to look...and she would rather not die whilst staring at Sedrik Hobs, so she closed her eyes with resignation and murmured softly to herself.
"Promise me something Anya" her husbands sweet words surrounded her like a soft blanket, one that she would be content with staying under forever.
"Anything love, anything." She lays her head against his muscular chest, breathing in deep of his scent, waiting for him to speak once more.
"Promise me, if there is a chance for you, that you will take it. That you will go back to our son, va rog?" His lips spoke softly, pressed against her ear, sending soft tingles up and down her body. "Nu argue, promise."
The woman smiled in amusement at how well her husband still knew her and what her response would be. "Aye Dragos, ah promise." His lips found hers then, sealing the promise with a kiss so full of love, the two melted together, becoming one.
In a soft whisper, Anya spoke to herself, eyes closed as the swish of the axe swinging through the air rang in her ears. The last words this woman would utter. "I will see you soon Dragos."
