02-02-2022, 02:26 PM
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
If she had known that this was another relation to the thing called “The Curse”… If she had suspected that he was related to the creature who had broken her open, blackened her stars, and left her encased in a glacier just because he could… His skull would have been cracked open before he could so much as twitch his mouth into that devious grin. She would have enjoyed watching the vultures feast on pieces of exposed bone and brain. She wouldn’t have felt bad at all.
Yet there is nothing about him that sparks any sort of recognition in her. There is nothing about him that screams of death and destruction. If anything, he is rather corny. He takes her snapping words with mock affront and she bristles visibly before him. Her eyes roll in disgust but it is hard to tell since her pupils refuse to show through the brightness of her spiraling iris’s. She is ready to tell him to fuck off entirely when he takes a step towards her and falters. Her expression tightens, dark lips pressed together as she studies him warily, furrowing the slash across her cheek. He plays off his pain but she is too sharp, too observant, and her gaze lingers on the leg that had nearly put him face first into the grass.
There is a war raging inside of her. On one side is the destruction of her temper, the part of her that is done giving a shit about anyone else because it only leads to physical and mental pain. And then there is the other side. The one that she had been born with that still lurks somewhere beneath her blinding hot rage. That part of her that had always wanted to help, to fix, to protect. What a far cry she is from that now, how pathetic that she is now the one constantly in need of saving.
She doesn’t trust this stranger with his nonchalance and trite conversation. She doesn’t like the ease in which he speaks to her, as if she hadn’t been through hell and back again, even if her stars had saved him from smashing into the mountain. Maybe she would have preferred that. Maybe she will still bash his brains for him after all. Yet, she allows him to come closer all the same although her muscles tense painfully beneath her ravaged skin and her defensive posture remains. Instantly regretting her decision when he introduces himself and calls her a lovely.. beam was it? It’s mostly the suggestive raise of his brow that sets her off all over again.
”Minding my business.” She snarls at him, the stars hovering menacingly above her. “You would be wise to do the same. So thank me and leave.” She takes a threatening step towards him and stops in mid step, exhaling sharply as pain rackets through her body. Instinctively, her wings drop to fall back along her skeletal sides as if the softness of her starlit feathers might ease the bruising, the frostbite, the pain that floods her system every time she moves. Quickly she looks away from him so he will not see her wincing expression, allowing moonlight to flood across her chest and illuminate the multitudes of silvery scars there. The criss cross patterns that wind up her front legs.
It is hard to admit that as much as she might want to beat the everlasting shit out of this guy… She can’t. She would probably break apart before she could even get close enough to him. Nostrils flare with frustration as she stays where she is, barely holding herself together and trying to not feel so exposed to this stranger. Not a stranger, Kestrell. There is something close to resignation in her frosted voice when she finally speaks to him again. “Did you land wrong?” She finally asks, blatantly refusing to give him her name even as she glances back at him and side eyes the leg he had stumbled on. What was the point when she probably would never see him again… If she was lucky. Then again luck hadn’t been on her side for a very long time.
Yet there is nothing about him that sparks any sort of recognition in her. There is nothing about him that screams of death and destruction. If anything, he is rather corny. He takes her snapping words with mock affront and she bristles visibly before him. Her eyes roll in disgust but it is hard to tell since her pupils refuse to show through the brightness of her spiraling iris’s. She is ready to tell him to fuck off entirely when he takes a step towards her and falters. Her expression tightens, dark lips pressed together as she studies him warily, furrowing the slash across her cheek. He plays off his pain but she is too sharp, too observant, and her gaze lingers on the leg that had nearly put him face first into the grass.
There is a war raging inside of her. On one side is the destruction of her temper, the part of her that is done giving a shit about anyone else because it only leads to physical and mental pain. And then there is the other side. The one that she had been born with that still lurks somewhere beneath her blinding hot rage. That part of her that had always wanted to help, to fix, to protect. What a far cry she is from that now, how pathetic that she is now the one constantly in need of saving.
She doesn’t trust this stranger with his nonchalance and trite conversation. She doesn’t like the ease in which he speaks to her, as if she hadn’t been through hell and back again, even if her stars had saved him from smashing into the mountain. Maybe she would have preferred that. Maybe she will still bash his brains for him after all. Yet, she allows him to come closer all the same although her muscles tense painfully beneath her ravaged skin and her defensive posture remains. Instantly regretting her decision when he introduces himself and calls her a lovely.. beam was it? It’s mostly the suggestive raise of his brow that sets her off all over again.
”Minding my business.” She snarls at him, the stars hovering menacingly above her. “You would be wise to do the same. So thank me and leave.” She takes a threatening step towards him and stops in mid step, exhaling sharply as pain rackets through her body. Instinctively, her wings drop to fall back along her skeletal sides as if the softness of her starlit feathers might ease the bruising, the frostbite, the pain that floods her system every time she moves. Quickly she looks away from him so he will not see her wincing expression, allowing moonlight to flood across her chest and illuminate the multitudes of silvery scars there. The criss cross patterns that wind up her front legs.
It is hard to admit that as much as she might want to beat the everlasting shit out of this guy… She can’t. She would probably break apart before she could even get close enough to him. Nostrils flare with frustration as she stays where she is, barely holding herself together and trying to not feel so exposed to this stranger. Not a stranger, Kestrell. There is something close to resignation in her frosted voice when she finally speaks to him again. “Did you land wrong?” She finally asks, blatantly refusing to give him her name even as she glances back at him and side eyes the leg he had stumbled on. What was the point when she probably would never see him again… If she was lucky. Then again luck hadn’t been on her side for a very long time.
-- Ciri
@Kestrell