07-26-2019, 01:28 AM
Ilma
One night I will be the moon
hanging over you
One night I will be a star
follow where you are
hanging over you
One night I will be a star
follow where you are
The blue grullo is an interesting figure, if not a little unsettling. Referring to himself as a moth drawn to her light, she can understand. But the way he creeps up on her or asks her is she really should want to see a moth in the light of day, she knows what kind of male he is.
Unfortunately, her only son was once forced on her. Unfortunately, both his father and her son are blue dun males - though without them actually being as blue as this one.
It was a time long ago, and she is an old woman now. Or, perhaps she feels that way with everything that has happened in her life after Llowell’s birth. Suddenly, she misses the friend who stood out for her - a man she had waited for, only to find a feral mountain lion instead. Now, she’s not so sure if she wants any man in her life at all any more - save for a single night perhaps.
Neither matters as she deflects his question with a shrug and staying on-topic - not acknowledging the fact that the blue male referred to himself - one could think she was naive and didn’t know what he meant, though they would be mistaken. ”I happen to know beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’m fairly certain that when one studies a moth more closely, they’ll find something pretty and intriguing there.” It is a philosophical answer to a hypothetical question, and she turns her head when his body heat lines up with hers, her flank not just yet touching him.
From afar they might look lovers, but she is in no mood to take that illusion and run it any further. A quiver of her flank, as if an itchy fly had landed on it just before, and sweep of her tail to her hocks give away her irritation at his forthcoming, and she steps sideways minimally to let the cool clean night air form a barrier between them. It won’t hold long probably, yet it’s the physical contact she doesn’t approve of - not just avoiding him, but almost like a mother would do with her child when teaching it boundaries, she scolds him with her body language. Subtle - perhaps not something he picks up on, but the levels of scolding only start with this one, and she’d go by them step by step until he gets it.
His question stops that train of thought - pauses it, really - and her fire-coloured eyes meet with his darker ones, observing, calculating. ”Resting. Grazing. Wandering to places of potential, so I happen to be where I need to be most of the time. You could argue we were supposed to meet - I didn’t know who would be here tonight, of course. But there was a potential meeting here.” She shrugs. ”It could be unimportant, though. The gift isn’t always decidedly accurate. But I like to think my presence can have an effect on someone, or their choices. Even if not right away, then in the future.” Why she tells him all of that, she isn’t quite sure. A stranger in the night is perhaps easier to talk to than the ones we already know; maybe it works both ways this time. Perhaps, she muses, getting out of the caves was a bad idea - or perhaps getting into the forest is. But she refuses to believe she is nothing; she just admitted that to him and to herself.
So perhaps this insight is all she needs tonight - perhaps it is indeed time to mingle with the world once again. The only questions being where, when, and who.
Unfortunately, her only son was once forced on her. Unfortunately, both his father and her son are blue dun males - though without them actually being as blue as this one.
It was a time long ago, and she is an old woman now. Or, perhaps she feels that way with everything that has happened in her life after Llowell’s birth. Suddenly, she misses the friend who stood out for her - a man she had waited for, only to find a feral mountain lion instead. Now, she’s not so sure if she wants any man in her life at all any more - save for a single night perhaps.
Neither matters as she deflects his question with a shrug and staying on-topic - not acknowledging the fact that the blue male referred to himself - one could think she was naive and didn’t know what he meant, though they would be mistaken. ”I happen to know beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’m fairly certain that when one studies a moth more closely, they’ll find something pretty and intriguing there.” It is a philosophical answer to a hypothetical question, and she turns her head when his body heat lines up with hers, her flank not just yet touching him.
From afar they might look lovers, but she is in no mood to take that illusion and run it any further. A quiver of her flank, as if an itchy fly had landed on it just before, and sweep of her tail to her hocks give away her irritation at his forthcoming, and she steps sideways minimally to let the cool clean night air form a barrier between them. It won’t hold long probably, yet it’s the physical contact she doesn’t approve of - not just avoiding him, but almost like a mother would do with her child when teaching it boundaries, she scolds him with her body language. Subtle - perhaps not something he picks up on, but the levels of scolding only start with this one, and she’d go by them step by step until he gets it.
His question stops that train of thought - pauses it, really - and her fire-coloured eyes meet with his darker ones, observing, calculating. ”Resting. Grazing. Wandering to places of potential, so I happen to be where I need to be most of the time. You could argue we were supposed to meet - I didn’t know who would be here tonight, of course. But there was a potential meeting here.” She shrugs. ”It could be unimportant, though. The gift isn’t always decidedly accurate. But I like to think my presence can have an effect on someone, or their choices. Even if not right away, then in the future.” Why she tells him all of that, she isn’t quite sure. A stranger in the night is perhaps easier to talk to than the ones we already know; maybe it works both ways this time. Perhaps, she muses, getting out of the caves was a bad idea - or perhaps getting into the forest is. But she refuses to believe she is nothing; she just admitted that to him and to herself.
So perhaps this insight is all she needs tonight - perhaps it is indeed time to mingle with the world once again. The only questions being where, when, and who.
Hurry, the sun is waking
Darling, don't leave me waiting
Darling, don't leave me waiting
@[Tunnel]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time