Agnieszka
The painted woman fails to notice the way he inspects her, focus narrowing as if determining a threat. He appears only interested to her, and that is enough. The dark man mirrors her steps and comes closer, arcs around her like electricity that fails to ground itself in her skin.
His proximity sets a burning in the back of her skull. A sensation of frustration that flows into her muscles and tightens her posture until she is a statue of tension. Beneath the buzzing waves of anxiety and frenetic thought she bares up enough to wait for something to happen, just enough to give Stillwater time to trace the supple lines of her renewed body. Scars she has, but she is not made unwoman by them. She knows this, knows she can have whatever she has become so certain will numb her.
Hot breath spills against her hip and a shiver flows over her skin in its wake. His words wash against her skin and her back-turned ears pluck them out of the quiet night. No reply comes from Eszka’s pale lips. They both knew perfectly well it isn’t a question anyway. Her only answer is to turn her head back a degree toward Stillwater, glance at him, and then move away. She rounds the moon-shadow of twisted pine tree but otherwise her path is direct and she does not look back to make sure he follows her down to the beach.
In the dark the sand is blue-black and deserted. Her hooves settle at the edge of the water and the wind pushes her towards the surf, tangling her tail about her strong legs. The few moments she stands on the edge feel like eternity, during which her pulsating thoughts fall into the same cadence of hissing and crashing. Come to me. Whatever you are, come to me. Fill in the missing thing. Make me still.
The chill of the waves is no deterrent, and the tide has fallen enough to make it safe for someone like her to wander into the waves. The waves were probably the safest of the things she wants to wander into tonight.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Stillwater]