i'm just a lowlife; krys-pony

[Ellyse]

your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine. i don't love you, but i always will.

 The frigid ice weaves it way through the dense thicket of her feathers, gently touching the hollow bone structure hidden beneath the surface, provoking an agitated grunt from her throat. The warmth of her insulated wings soon melts each individual ice crystal, leaving little but the dampness of it behind – though her tepid breath soothes the ache. With her jaw tense and tightened, her teeth grinding together, she watches with wary hazel eyes, a fire burning within the dilated pupils. He is broad, much broader than she, but no taller in stature – her eyes meet with his own on equal ground, fierce and drenched with disfavor. The defined lines of his muscles shifting beneath what little of his russet skin peeked out from beneath a heavy blanket of snow, but she is far from intimidated; his repugnant outburst of laughter only provokes her gaze to narrow and her observation to become condemning. 

  ”Aren’t you funny?” She drawls, her voice laced with contempt. The length of her expansive wings stretch to each side, allowing the bleak sunshine to touch the bristling feathers, all the while her gaze never veering away from his own. A few long moments pass between, examining the way his smile (crooked, lopsided – a quirk derived from disuse, she could only imagine) faltered as his momentary amusement fades into obscurity. ”You should be grateful you aren’t looking at what I am looking at.”

  Disgruntled, her blunt teeth resume their tedious task of perfecting the placement of her pristine feathers, until satisfaction has settled into the marrow of her bones. A shiver courses its way along the rigid line of her spine, though it is cloaked in muscle, curving in a gentle slope along her back. Her shoulders remain rigid, her posture erect – a guarded but curious eye swiveling his way. A low, thoughtful waft of air emerges from her lungs; a heaving sigh. Alas, the tension seemingly dissolves over time, and soon she is unable to quell the insatiable desire to fluster him further. It is not often she comes across another that is as mouthy as she; if nothing else his brooding, moping presence may present itself as amusement for her.

  She delighted in the plight of others – though too often, the feeble shred of compassion lying still beneath layers of callous ruthless dialogue and indifference made itself known in time.

  (Though she would never confess to such a thing. Weakness had no place in her life.)

  Quietly tucking her feathered appendages against the curve of her body, she emerges from the thicket she had only just been victim to, her elegant skull tilted slightly to the right – though her eyes never wander from his own. He is decidedly plain (a strong jawline; broad chest – handsome, but it was almost as if something were missing), but wholly intriguing, in part because of his boorish humor. ”I am certain there are worse things to look at;” she muses, though there is no humor in her flattened tone, head cocked and the ridge of her brow furrowing. ”who are you? I thought ..” A pause. ”I assumed I was alone. I haven’t come across anyone else here before.”

  Until now, at least.

Ellyse

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