05-24-2017, 03:23 PM
”Ruan.”
His name on the voice of a stranger had him turning to settle piercing blue eyes on those of fire. Like Aranea’s, but bolder, louder. Except these were not looking at him. Not his face, anyway. They walked over his body, instead; the charcoal black of his legs, purple spots pulled tight over lean muscle, welted and angry scars at his shoulders, a strong neck that darkened to yet more black, and then, briefly, his eyes.
”Nayl,” she offered. Then there they go again, those eyes, wandering away to somewhere behind her. His own glance that way yielded the same results hers had: not a damn thing.
”You look like you've seen happier days. Perhaps some bitter memories?” she said, turning back to him once more. He didn't read genuine care in her voice or expression. It felt more like a taunt, or a prodding, as though testing him, but for what intent, he couldn't discern. She knew him; his name, probably his home and placement there. Asking Do I know you was pointless and a waste of breath, when he already knew the answer. He didn't know her. Why did anyone ever ask that question anyway, when they could just answer it themselves?
”Plenty of both, “ he replied evenly, his voice as deep and dark as the forest of his home.
He searched those eyes of fire, wondering who she was and how she knew him. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him that people would know of… whatever he was. A ghost of the Taiga, perhaps. Hidden away, and kept to himself and his people. Typically, Jinju or Heda wandered to the field on occasion, and very rarely, him as well. He was particular about whom might be well-suited for their family unit, and often didn’t show himself unless he’d found one that may have potential, so he wasn’t exactly a public figure. His recent efforts there had been mistakes, crossing the greedy and power-hungry that were only interested in climbing the ranks of a system intent on naming equals as superior to each other. Maybe she was one of those, too.
His eyes slid down her face to her muzzle as he watched her enter the chill around him, her breath reaching. Frost almost glittered on the velvet of her nose and he wondered if the cold bothered her, when her scent smelled so much of sun and sweat and sea. His world was so different with its damp and darkness and clear, fresh air, dapples of sunlight and beds of needles cushioned underfoot. Her breath fogged as his did, clouding so close to his skin. Nobody but his daughters had been this close to him in well over a year, and his pulse kicked unsteadily, though he stood calmly stoic.
His gaze lifted to her eyes again, peering through her fire to find her intent. She was a mask, though. A wall of secrets. A ghost of a smile flickered in the corner of his mouth, then gone again as he silently expanded his Winter to swallow the rest of her, embracing her in this chill that followed him, haunted him. Liked the cold, did she?
”You know me. Can’t say the same for you," he drawled low. "Care to enlighten?”
His name on the voice of a stranger had him turning to settle piercing blue eyes on those of fire. Like Aranea’s, but bolder, louder. Except these were not looking at him. Not his face, anyway. They walked over his body, instead; the charcoal black of his legs, purple spots pulled tight over lean muscle, welted and angry scars at his shoulders, a strong neck that darkened to yet more black, and then, briefly, his eyes.
”Nayl,” she offered. Then there they go again, those eyes, wandering away to somewhere behind her. His own glance that way yielded the same results hers had: not a damn thing.
”You look like you've seen happier days. Perhaps some bitter memories?” she said, turning back to him once more. He didn't read genuine care in her voice or expression. It felt more like a taunt, or a prodding, as though testing him, but for what intent, he couldn't discern. She knew him; his name, probably his home and placement there. Asking Do I know you was pointless and a waste of breath, when he already knew the answer. He didn't know her. Why did anyone ever ask that question anyway, when they could just answer it themselves?
”Plenty of both, “ he replied evenly, his voice as deep and dark as the forest of his home.
He searched those eyes of fire, wondering who she was and how she knew him. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him that people would know of… whatever he was. A ghost of the Taiga, perhaps. Hidden away, and kept to himself and his people. Typically, Jinju or Heda wandered to the field on occasion, and very rarely, him as well. He was particular about whom might be well-suited for their family unit, and often didn’t show himself unless he’d found one that may have potential, so he wasn’t exactly a public figure. His recent efforts there had been mistakes, crossing the greedy and power-hungry that were only interested in climbing the ranks of a system intent on naming equals as superior to each other. Maybe she was one of those, too.
His eyes slid down her face to her muzzle as he watched her enter the chill around him, her breath reaching. Frost almost glittered on the velvet of her nose and he wondered if the cold bothered her, when her scent smelled so much of sun and sweat and sea. His world was so different with its damp and darkness and clear, fresh air, dapples of sunlight and beds of needles cushioned underfoot. Her breath fogged as his did, clouding so close to his skin. Nobody but his daughters had been this close to him in well over a year, and his pulse kicked unsteadily, though he stood calmly stoic.
His gaze lifted to her eyes again, peering through her fire to find her intent. She was a mask, though. A wall of secrets. A ghost of a smile flickered in the corner of his mouth, then gone again as he silently expanded his Winter to swallow the rest of her, embracing her in this chill that followed him, haunted him. Liked the cold, did she?
”You know me. Can’t say the same for you," he drawled low. "Care to enlighten?”
