Pollen has never been this bold before. It is a side of herself that she has never seen, unless adventuring off on her own counts. Her momma might have argued otherwise but let her go all the same and that’s how the sunny girl ended up here, standing in the river next to the girl made up of galaxies and rainbows, stunning and impossible but so very real that it hurt to keep staring at her.
She just didn’t want to look away, or blink, afraid the girl might disappear. Might turn out to be a figment of imagination or a scrap of dream that clung to her mind, and if she blinked or moved, it might all dissolve back into sun-sparkles on the river. Until Pollen touched her and the girl felt so solid and smooth beneath her wandering curious lips. That confirmation alone made her sigh happily against the glass skin before she pulled her head away out of decency.
These moments feel dreamlike, improbable as the sun shines down on the pair and the river meanders between their legs. Her senses feel both heightened and diminished as she looks, listens, and smiles blithely too. The glass-girl is more tranquil than Pollen, dreamier too. Pollen tries but there are always bees buzzing too close to her ears for the dreams to make much sense unless they’re all sleeping.
She’d no more believe a lie than truth from this girl; thoroughly enchanted at the company that has found her. Bees buzz and purple asters bloom amongst the honey and pale hair as she bobs her head and glimpses all that glitters on the girl beside her. She itches to touch again but manages to keep a polite distance even though her nose seems to drift close of its own accord, moved by impulses that Pollen tricks herself about.
“You’re welcome,” she comments quietly, studying the bashful duck of the girl’s head and how it makes the whole world light up like something special. It feels like the edges of the river have grown fuzzy and inconspicuous, like a dream taking shape all around them. Pollen keeps on smiling, as is her nature to do so. She doesn’t stiffen at the returned bump to her shoulder; if anything, she relaxes further as touch was a language she remembered well from the earliest points of her childhood.
“Thank you,” she responds in kind at such a compliment; something that she is clearly not used to as embarrassment paints itself across her face. She felt more wild and messy than beautiful on account of all the times she looked at herself in the water, not out of vanity but as she took a drink and happened to glance at her reflection - stark-eyed, frank, and disheveled as bees flew around her head merrily.
“I might,” she admits with a cheery little laugh as her eyes sparkle with goodwill. “Momma used to say something like that to me too, but I think mothers are just partial to their babies and think all of them look beautiful no matter what.” Pollen then realized that she was just blathering on, carrying the current of conversation off on a tangent that was not at all pertinent to the moment happening between them.
She knew she wasn’t nervous but she was utterly enamored of the girl and couldn’t stop looking at her or moving in for another quick but gentle touch. “You sure are unique…” she murmured, maybe a touch smitten herself because it just seemed so right to be. Must have been the magpie hiding in her heart that loved shiny things like girls throwing off rainbows with their smooth glittery skin.
@[clementia] i think polly just got her first crush, awkward! lol