10-17-2018, 06:14 PM
Nothing unusual
nothing strange
close to nothing at all
- - - -
The scent of the ocean lingers in her hair (sand and brine) and the salty taste of it clings to her lips. Its a wonder her veins aren't full of salt water, although for all she knows they could be-- she's never bled before. She thinks about it sometimes, wonders if maybe she should open herself up just to see if she's red on the inside.
She tells herself that is a foolish thing to want (what's it matter anyway, if you bleed blue-grey?) but that doesn't mean she stops thinking about it. There is simply too much time in the day to not think foolish thoughts.
Speaking of foolishness, she's lost (again) although not terribly concerned about it (, again).
"Is Ischia this way?" she turns her head to look at the stranger as she steps past him, boldly walking the wrong way. If she is surprised by his bright coloring she keeps her face from showing it-- but she can't control her eyes and the way they crinkle at the edges in surprised pleasure.
She stops in her tracks, telling herself it is just for a moment
(She's always talking to herself, reminding herself to do or not do anything. She's always ignoring herself, too)
and smiles, the barest of smiles. Just then lightning strikes in the distance and for a moment she looks wild, wild wild, like a child of the storm and not at all the plain, aging woman she pictures herself to be. "I'm North." She says this decisively, as though she's just made up her mind about something. She is the sort of person who does not change her mind, once it's been made.
- - - - -
N O R T H
nothing strange
close to nothing at all
- - - -
The scent of the ocean lingers in her hair (sand and brine) and the salty taste of it clings to her lips. Its a wonder her veins aren't full of salt water, although for all she knows they could be-- she's never bled before. She thinks about it sometimes, wonders if maybe she should open herself up just to see if she's red on the inside.
She tells herself that is a foolish thing to want (what's it matter anyway, if you bleed blue-grey?) but that doesn't mean she stops thinking about it. There is simply too much time in the day to not think foolish thoughts.
Speaking of foolishness, she's lost (again) although not terribly concerned about it (, again).
"Is Ischia this way?" she turns her head to look at the stranger as she steps past him, boldly walking the wrong way. If she is surprised by his bright coloring she keeps her face from showing it-- but she can't control her eyes and the way they crinkle at the edges in surprised pleasure.
She stops in her tracks, telling herself it is just for a moment
(She's always talking to herself, reminding herself to do or not do anything. She's always ignoring herself, too)
and smiles, the barest of smiles. Just then lightning strikes in the distance and for a moment she looks wild, wild wild, like a child of the storm and not at all the plain, aging woman she pictures herself to be. "I'm North." She says this decisively, as though she's just made up her mind about something. She is the sort of person who does not change her mind, once it's been made.
- - - - -
N O R T H
Oof -bones creak- sorry I am slow!