everything will glow for you, romulus.

[Jenova]

something about the dark. something about our bodies, and the way we find one another.
something about the place where fear melts in the mouth and gets lost in kisses and under fingernails.
His smile is warm – it makes her want to huddle against him for warmth but she stares into his clouded eyes instead. Jenova does not know what this color means but she edges closer to look at him in wonder. The sound of her steps crunching in the snow surely gives her away. Then, there is a faint rustle of her wings unfurling slightly in her curiosity. She had been taught that staring was rude years ago but she never could really help herself when she sees something so interesting to her. Cherise was probably driven mad by her daughter’s careless nature.

“Why do your eyes look that way?” she mumbles softly, captivated by the opal shade of white. Light doesn’t penetrate the depths of his eyes as it does with others and she finds herself circling him closely as she searches for more surprising features to him. Jenova trails her lips along the length of his side as though her sense of touch may unveil some mystery her eyes cannot. She pauses at his hip and returns to his face, still certain he’s hiding something. She does not seem bothered by the way he looms over her like some mountain of a man.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Jenova. What’s yours?” Her voice, like silver bells, manages to convey the sweet smile that overtakes her lips as she introduces herself. They make for an interesting pair, perfect opposites in every way, but she likes the contrast between them. Her wings finally settle tight against her back as she grows calm once more. She’s still close enough that her contented sigh puffs against his cheek in a warm white cloud.

There are a hundred more questions in her mind but she recalls being told how rude it is to bombard someone like that. Still, she finds herself wondering where he’s come from and where he’s going. Is her part of a kingdom like Leilan? Is he alone like her? (The word ‘alone’ does not hold dreary connotations to her as it does for others.) She waits patiently, not realizing he can hear each of her dizzying thoughts as they drift through her lovely head. Jenova might pity him if he could.

Jenova
something about the sanctity of trust, of midnight confessions,
of held breath let out on a sigh like a smoke signal, a safe harbor.
some kind of magic. the kind that’s only for us.

@[Romulus]