Clementia lingers there, her own curious mouth pressed against the girl’s shoulder.
Because she is just as bewitched by the sun-girl as the sun-girl is with her. Because it bathes her in wonder to feel the softness of the flesh, the fine hair, the muscles moving and shifting and pulsing beneath the surface. Sometimes she stands for hours with her nose pressed against her mother’s hip, breathless, wondering if her body worked the same way beneath all that smooth glass.
But she, too, minds her manners and eventually draws her mouth away. Blinking those milky white eyes at the girl, deciding that she is the sun. And it is only now that she takes note of the flowers blooming in her hair. Too thoroughly distracted by the bees to have noticed them before and she reaches for one, dusts her stiff lip across its petals with that same dreamy grin.
She draws away again when the sun-girl laughs. The sound of it makes Clementia’s own heart spasm, deepens that tranquil grin as she turns her head to meet the sun-girl’s eye. Maybe Clementia agrees. Both her mother and father fawn over she and her sister, cooing, have since the day they were born. But her mother and father are not the only ones who’ve looked at her captivated. Even Clementia is not immune to the way she glitters and sparkles, the spiraling galaxies just beneath the glass. Still doesn’t recognize it as vanity, but perhaps some day she will.
But her sun-girl is the first creature whose wonder has ever filled her with heat. It is not embarrassment but a specific sort of delight. To be so feverishly revered by someone every bit as beautiful is a new kind of thrill.
“That may be true,” she says, the voice like spun silk, “but that doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” She tilts her fine head, shifting her focus to the bees and the honey and the flowers again. Sighs her own dreamy sigh. “Just look at how much the bees love you.”
She shifts her weight then, as the girl reaches for her again. Welcomes the touch. Sinks a little closer even. “Won't you tell me your name?” she murmurs as she brings her own nose to rest on the ridge of the sun-girl’s spine.
crack the shutters open wide
i wanna bathe you in the light of day
i wanna bathe you in the light of day
C L E M E N T I A
@[Pollen] the feeling is mutual oop