Wane watches the skies grow even darker with the promise of rain. He breathes the smell of ozone deep, as though he is keeping it all for himself. Like Lanai, he loved the rain, so when the first drops of it fall from swollen clouds above him he doesn’t shy, or head to leave. He feels the rain on his back as it does what it can to erode holes in the skin that it finds there and leave it aching, and he blinks softly through the drops of water that bead and fall from his dark eyelashes.
And then he sees her.
Or rather, it at this point, slithering through the moonlight a brief distance ahead.
He watches her transformation with vague interest, snickering quietly to himself when her forked tongue makes one final appearance. When it is over he sighs breathes deep one final taste of ozone in the quiet, and moves himself across the meadow towards her. The scales might have, in separate circumstances than these, meant that she didn’t fall into his usual archetype. However, the meadow was empty tonight, and then again, it had always been a rather broad category anyways.
He could thank his father for that - his unfaltering love of women.
While Texas had fathered more than his share of children, he hadn’t raised any. Wax and Wane had held the privilege of joining him on that particular adventure. The effects were not devastating, but as expected; Wane grew up with an affinity for pretty things, and an ego large enough to withstand more than a few knock-downs.
“Hey,” he says, casually sidling up next to her as though they are old friends.
If he were smarter he might offer her some distance, it being well past midnight and all. Instead, the space between their bodies is minimal, and he can almost feel the heat off her skin. He gestures, then, by swinging his head toward the scales, illuminated by the moonlight, gathering at the base of her spine, only half-heartedly discovering the slope of her hips as he does so, and says:
“You missed a spot.”
@Khuma