“Do they hurt you?”
The dreamy question tugs at her ears and pulls her from the clutches of the afternoon nap. She feels like it is a struggle to climb upwards to light and wakefulness but manages it with a classless yawn and a shake of her head to dispel the sleepy sand from her eyes. Pollen blinks at all the glittering that distracts her; it's sunlight on water and sunlight on a surface like crystals (she has never seen glass before in its natural state), thrown everywhere and wildly so.
But she has to think because no, not once can she remember them ever hurting her. She knows they can sting, has asked them to on her behalf to keep predators from attacking her and that’s it. Pollen has never abused their ability to hurt because once they sting, they die and she cannot have hundreds of tiny deaths on her conscience like that. It would be too heartbreaking even though the hive thrives and there are more bees all the time.
“No, they never have.” she states with a smile as her gaze finally takes in who the dreamy voice belongs to. It’s a girl close to her in age and she’s achingly beautiful to look at, as the sun makes her glitter. It throws shards of light all over and makes tiny rainbows that captivate Pollen and her bees. Some of them fly off to investigate, buzzing in and out of the gorgeous pinpoints of color, as dazzled as the palomino is.
“Did you know you’re making rainbows?” Pollen can’t quite sound as dreamy as the unknown girl does but there is an awe palpable in her tone as she continues to smile. She moves closer without hesitation or thought to personal space, intrigued enough to want to touch to see if the skin is smooth like crystal or furred like her own is. There doesn’t appear to be individual hairs and whorls, just shiny lines that look cool and inviting.
She’s about to ask if she can touch but realizes the asking is too personal and might seem silly. Then she notices the small dribbles of water that flow down her sides and Pollen is even more amazed. “What are you?” she asks, no in the least bit rude but simply stupefied by wonder. “I’ve never seen someone like you before, and has anyone told you how beautiful you are?”
No, Pollen isn’t in love but she’s kind of like her bees - attracted to things like this girl, spun of something she’s never encountered before, who gives off light like the river does. Mesmerized, she finally does bridge the gap between them for just the smallest and lightest of touches - nose against neck, to confirm her suspicions that she ends up murmuring aloud. “So smooth…”
@[clementia] ❤️