11-14-2019, 12:11 AM
your breath frozen in the air, newborn droplets of iceyou were the one thing i got right
She has been curious about the eyeless boy ever since their first meeting, where a furious Castile had driven him from the kingdom. He is the son of an enemy, the dragon-king had informed her once he was gone, and she was not to interact with him in any way. It had hurt the girl for her surrogate father to have to scold her like that – she has always been the picture of innocence, never getting into trouble – but even so, she has been unable to get the boy from her mind as the months slip by and the seasons change. There is just... something about him.
Is this what true love is? She has gossiped with the other young girls of Loess, of course, about what love is supposed to feel like and if it is only butterflies and longing, she is not sure how she feels about it quite yet. Meeting Ghaul had felt like a natural colliding of souls, no matter how awkward the drake had been while courting her, and she wonders if her skin flushes with heat when she thinks of him and all of the blood rushes to her head. She wants to see him again and feel the embrace that felt so natural the first time, despite being so rushed and awkward at the same time.
She doesn’t know the mischief that he gets into, or the way he has to hunt to eat, but she wouldn’t care either way. Maybe she’ll never learn the nature of his birth, but would it bother her? She doesn’t know. It’s impossible to judge him, she decides, and so she is not ever going to try. All he is in her eyes is a galaxy-marked blind boy, one who she is drawn to like a moth to the flames. She doesn’t know how dangerous he is, but she also doesn’t care.
It is winter when he comes to her again, and she turns as she hears him skittering across the hard-packed dirt, and she wonders if he can feel the joy radiating from her as he tucks himself under her chin, practically purring with excitement. “Ghaul,” she breathes as his nose traces the outline of her face, memorizing her the only way he can.
He tucks a wing around her and she leans into him, reaching back to pluck at his mohawk of a mane. Hers has fallen flat across her neck and begun to grow out, gold and blue, but the dragon-boy's sticks up the same as ever, never growing. “My own flames do not feel as bright when you are not here,” she tells him as she presses her nose into his golden scales. “And I will not let anyone chase you away,” she promises, closing her eyes and breathing in his comforting scent. Oh, she has missed him so.
“Maybe we should just... run away,” she breathes into his skin, only half kidding.
Is this what true love is? She has gossiped with the other young girls of Loess, of course, about what love is supposed to feel like and if it is only butterflies and longing, she is not sure how she feels about it quite yet. Meeting Ghaul had felt like a natural colliding of souls, no matter how awkward the drake had been while courting her, and she wonders if her skin flushes with heat when she thinks of him and all of the blood rushes to her head. She wants to see him again and feel the embrace that felt so natural the first time, despite being so rushed and awkward at the same time.
She doesn’t know the mischief that he gets into, or the way he has to hunt to eat, but she wouldn’t care either way. Maybe she’ll never learn the nature of his birth, but would it bother her? She doesn’t know. It’s impossible to judge him, she decides, and so she is not ever going to try. All he is in her eyes is a galaxy-marked blind boy, one who she is drawn to like a moth to the flames. She doesn’t know how dangerous he is, but she also doesn’t care.
It is winter when he comes to her again, and she turns as she hears him skittering across the hard-packed dirt, and she wonders if he can feel the joy radiating from her as he tucks himself under her chin, practically purring with excitement. “Ghaul,” she breathes as his nose traces the outline of her face, memorizing her the only way he can.
He tucks a wing around her and she leans into him, reaching back to pluck at his mohawk of a mane. Hers has fallen flat across her neck and begun to grow out, gold and blue, but the dragon-boy's sticks up the same as ever, never growing. “My own flames do not feel as bright when you are not here,” she tells him as she presses her nose into his golden scales. “And I will not let anyone chase you away,” she promises, closing her eyes and breathing in his comforting scent. Oh, she has missed him so.
“Maybe we should just... run away,” she breathes into his skin, only half kidding.
clarissa
@[ghaul]