Work Text:
An aurora borealis kiss paints a black, work-roughened leather glove in hoarfrost, in the same shade of cold air startled from chapped lips.
A hand so dark that it could be cut from the midnight sky, a star descending upon her, hidden beneath that glove, now, trembling not from the winter chill, preparing to pounce.
A deep porcelain-blue brush, her smile curved like a shallow leap in the snow, darting away playfully, crying, chase me, chase me.