01-26-2019, 01:49 AM
North is somewhat repulsed and somewhat captivated by the stranger before her. She wants to step closer and farther away at the same time and so, naturally, she stays exactly where she is. Motionless as a doe.
He speaks of things he has no business knowing-- where she was, what she was doing (dying, or remembering dying, and what's the difference anyway so let's just call it plain dying-- dying over and over again) and the words are grating to hear for someone who so adores her privacy. She tries, oh how she tries, to fake it till you make it, but she thinks that she can't quite fake calm right now, so she scrambles for something else. Something like steel. She might find it. She finds something. "Tell me something I don't know." She does not smile (is there anything as crude as a smile) but the edge of her eyes seem to crinkle in laughter.
North never much liked magic, never liked feeling like she was standing at the frayed edges of reality, of something. As Beqanna grew wild around her, colorful and strange, she stood very quiet and very still as though if she were patient enough she could eventually go unnoticed. And for a time, she did. But every wild thing has a heart that won't stop beating until it's dead. And hers keeps going (thu-thunk, thu-thunk, oh strange machine) louder and louder like knocking on a door, like pounding on a coffin, until he says "And yet, here you are, ready and waiting for me"-- and a hush falls..
It seems, for a sliver of a second, that not even the earth breathes. The moment is gone so quickly that later she will wonder-- for days, she will wonder-- if it happened at all. She raises her chin, a simple gesture that should be defiant, but the effect is more like a kneel. She thinks she'll probably never win with him, but she sure as hell won't ever stop trying.
"Who are you." She feels taught as a bowstring with his nearness, but her voice does not waver.
n . o . r . t . h
what if I want to go devil instead? Bow
down to the madness that makes me
He speaks of things he has no business knowing-- where she was, what she was doing (dying, or remembering dying, and what's the difference anyway so let's just call it plain dying-- dying over and over again) and the words are grating to hear for someone who so adores her privacy. She tries, oh how she tries, to fake it till you make it, but she thinks that she can't quite fake calm right now, so she scrambles for something else. Something like steel. She might find it. She finds something. "Tell me something I don't know." She does not smile (is there anything as crude as a smile) but the edge of her eyes seem to crinkle in laughter.
North never much liked magic, never liked feeling like she was standing at the frayed edges of reality, of something. As Beqanna grew wild around her, colorful and strange, she stood very quiet and very still as though if she were patient enough she could eventually go unnoticed. And for a time, she did. But every wild thing has a heart that won't stop beating until it's dead. And hers keeps going (thu-thunk, thu-thunk, oh strange machine) louder and louder like knocking on a door, like pounding on a coffin, until he says "And yet, here you are, ready and waiting for me"-- and a hush falls..
It seems, for a sliver of a second, that not even the earth breathes. The moment is gone so quickly that later she will wonder-- for days, she will wonder-- if it happened at all. She raises her chin, a simple gesture that should be defiant, but the effect is more like a kneel. She thinks she'll probably never win with him, but she sure as hell won't ever stop trying.
"Who are you." She feels taught as a bowstring with his nearness, but her voice does not waver.
what if I want to go devil instead? Bow
down to the madness that makes me
@[Eight]