04-12-2020, 10:50 PM
That emptiness, the unspoken void that lingers in her breast, she feels it creep up on her now- as it has done so many times before.
Her ears, wrought with melodies, do nothing to undo the hole that burrows itself in her soft heart. Ironic that she takes on the expanse of the evening, with an infinite self-doubt that brings furrows to her brow, even as they look on nothing worrisome.
Feeling things, it is overwhelming at best and bewitching when one least expects; especially for a girl that was not born with her Mother’s blight.
“Hello?” head arching and turning to find the speaker, uncertain ears bend, the tensing of her muscles is merely habit at this point.
Each cloudy eye is lightless, unable to see the two before her, but their scents are distinctly female- if not something familiarly woodsy. If she could only see how she is taken in now, the way in which she is perceived, she might blush; turn shades of crimson in her cheeks until it collides with the master of her guise. There is no controlling it, each turn of vibrant skyscape, J is a vessel- nothing more.
“No, you’re not disturbing me,” the first voice is answered, nostrils flaring open, then shut; showing interest in the peculiar smell of that one. It’s something she’s smelled before, though she doesn’t know why (remnants of a deer in the woods), and it causes her to wonder why that might be.
“Many things,” it is but a whisper, faint and far away- much like the tender, unseeing gaze of her eyes.
“I was enjoying the nightsong,” her voice lilts to the second. A correction to her previous lapse, modifying the lost, apprehensive poise of before, and there is a curve that threatens to take her indigo lips.
The waver in her vocals tell her pretense.
Her ears, wrought with melodies, do nothing to undo the hole that burrows itself in her soft heart. Ironic that she takes on the expanse of the evening, with an infinite self-doubt that brings furrows to her brow, even as they look on nothing worrisome.
Feeling things, it is overwhelming at best and bewitching when one least expects; especially for a girl that was not born with her Mother’s blight.
“Hello?” head arching and turning to find the speaker, uncertain ears bend, the tensing of her muscles is merely habit at this point.
Each cloudy eye is lightless, unable to see the two before her, but their scents are distinctly female- if not something familiarly woodsy. If she could only see how she is taken in now, the way in which she is perceived, she might blush; turn shades of crimson in her cheeks until it collides with the master of her guise. There is no controlling it, each turn of vibrant skyscape, J is a vessel- nothing more.
“No, you’re not disturbing me,” the first voice is answered, nostrils flaring open, then shut; showing interest in the peculiar smell of that one. It’s something she’s smelled before, though she doesn’t know why (remnants of a deer in the woods), and it causes her to wonder why that might be.
“Many things,” it is but a whisper, faint and far away- much like the tender, unseeing gaze of her eyes.
“I was enjoying the nightsong,” her voice lilts to the second. A correction to her previous lapse, modifying the lost, apprehensive poise of before, and there is a curve that threatens to take her indigo lips.
The waver in her vocals tell her pretense.
jenger
words: tags: HTML by Call