I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind
She likes his company, despite their rocky start. She likes that his emotions are so big that she cannot help but feel them. Because he’s kind and pleasant and he can laugh at himself when his feet get all tangled up as he dances. She’s still thinking about Isilya when he scrambles back to his feet and she stifles a soft, muted laugh. Something shy, like she’s worried about drawing too much attention to herself. She had never thought of it that way, the idea that she’d had two mothers, but she thinks it’s pretty cool, too.
She shakes her head at his gentle rebuttal, his insistence that he’s not a good dancer. She tilts her head and smiles up at him. “You don’t have to have skill to be good,” she says, though she doesn’t really know how true that is. “You love it and it makes you happy and it’s fun to watch, so I think you’re good.”
She feels flush with heat underneath his gaze, the way he studies her something altogether foreign. But she finds that it is not altogether unpleasant, even as she shifts her weight and averts her gaze so that she will not have to watch him watch her.
She doesn’t slide her gaze back to his face until he speaks again and heat pools in her cheeks at his appraisal. She has never considered herself interesting and she doesn’t know what it means that he does. She knows that her personality leaves a lot to be desired and falls well short of wonderful but she doesn’t open her mouth to argue. Instead, her expression lightens with delight when he asks about her color.
“It’s magic,” she confesses. It is a skill she uses considerably less often than the one she doesn’t particularly want, but Isilya had taught her how to harness it all the same. She stares at a spot on his shoulder and drags in a long breath, willing her own color to change. And it does, easier now that she’s had practice. She stands there and beams, the same shade of chestnut as he is.
“Isn’t it cool?” she asks, breathless.
@[Ridiculous]