03-18-2021, 02:05 AM
it’s a lonely road, I know,
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul --
If she wasn’t so out of her element she would have maybe laughed a little at the way she had accidentally startled him, but given the circumstances, it only serves to make her feel more guilty. Shrinking back as he fights for his footing she bites her lip, ducking her delicate head. “I’m sorry,” she says in the flower-petal soft of her voice, before lifting her bright blue eyes again and saying a little more clearly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She moves closer just as he does, finding herself intrigued by the blue of his eyes. Her eyes were blue, too, but they were more similar to her mother’s—pale and icy, lending a sharpness to her face that she didn’t particularly like, though the pastel opal and the femininity of the flowers in her mane served to soften it again. His eyes were different, though, bright as the nearly forgotten summer sky in Tephra, and she feels guilty all over again for running away.
“No I’m not,” she finds herself answering a little defensively, her small ears tilting backward not in aggression, but uncertainty. Could he read minds? What exactly about her made her intent so obvious? She looks at his eyes again, studying his young face, as if she was going to find her answer hidden there. Finding nothing she wilts a little, her gaze fixing on the ground at her hooves. “I just didn’t feel like being at home.”
She felt like she was being rude, though, since he hadn't really done anything to deserve such (what she thought to be) a sharp answer, and so she meets his gaze again and says quietly, “My name is Rare.”
and nothing ever stands between a bullet and your soul --
If she wasn’t so out of her element she would have maybe laughed a little at the way she had accidentally startled him, but given the circumstances, it only serves to make her feel more guilty. Shrinking back as he fights for his footing she bites her lip, ducking her delicate head. “I’m sorry,” she says in the flower-petal soft of her voice, before lifting her bright blue eyes again and saying a little more clearly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She moves closer just as he does, finding herself intrigued by the blue of his eyes. Her eyes were blue, too, but they were more similar to her mother’s—pale and icy, lending a sharpness to her face that she didn’t particularly like, though the pastel opal and the femininity of the flowers in her mane served to soften it again. His eyes were different, though, bright as the nearly forgotten summer sky in Tephra, and she feels guilty all over again for running away.
“No I’m not,” she finds herself answering a little defensively, her small ears tilting backward not in aggression, but uncertainty. Could he read minds? What exactly about her made her intent so obvious? She looks at his eyes again, studying his young face, as if she was going to find her answer hidden there. Finding nothing she wilts a little, her gaze fixing on the ground at her hooves. “I just didn’t feel like being at home.”
She felt like she was being rude, though, since he hadn't really done anything to deserve such (what she thought to be) a sharp answer, and so she meets his gaze again and says quietly, “My name is Rare.”
-- rare.
@[The Monsters] can you mess with the intangibility ;(
@[Reave]