11-11-2019, 12:36 PM
Her name is Breckin.
He practically confirms it.
It’s a small thing, but it’s a thrilling thing, and it sends a tingle of recognition through her protruding spine. It’s hers. It belongs to her and no one can take it away from her again. Never could she have fathomed that a single word would make her as possessive as she suddenly felt. Wrong maybe, for being so giddy for such a feeling, but so very right.
“I - ” she starts, but stops abruptly when he dares a flagrant step closer. She didn’t like that. Arthas might have helped solve the mystery of her identity, but beyond that, there was no bright flame of acceptance starting to rekindle for what else had to say. In accordance, she stepped backward, swinging sideways to place the trunk of the tree between them. He might know who she was, but he could still be dangerous. She was still hesitant, still afraid and fear often bred caution.
“The only memory I can recall is waking up, and a boy finding me,” she at long last answers, peering warily at the strange yellow eyes of a man who earnestly claimed to know her. He could be lying, that’s possible, but he may be telling the truth. But how would she know, if she didn’t ask? And for a moment she is torn - split between uncertainty and a starving curiosity to know more.
The hunger won out.
Before he could lose interest and move on with his day, she presses urgently, “Were we close friends? How much can you tell me?”
@[Arthas]
He practically confirms it.
It’s a small thing, but it’s a thrilling thing, and it sends a tingle of recognition through her protruding spine. It’s hers. It belongs to her and no one can take it away from her again. Never could she have fathomed that a single word would make her as possessive as she suddenly felt. Wrong maybe, for being so giddy for such a feeling, but so very right.
“I - ” she starts, but stops abruptly when he dares a flagrant step closer. She didn’t like that. Arthas might have helped solve the mystery of her identity, but beyond that, there was no bright flame of acceptance starting to rekindle for what else had to say. In accordance, she stepped backward, swinging sideways to place the trunk of the tree between them. He might know who she was, but he could still be dangerous. She was still hesitant, still afraid and fear often bred caution.
“The only memory I can recall is waking up, and a boy finding me,” she at long last answers, peering warily at the strange yellow eyes of a man who earnestly claimed to know her. He could be lying, that’s possible, but he may be telling the truth. But how would she know, if she didn’t ask? And for a moment she is torn - split between uncertainty and a starving curiosity to know more.
The hunger won out.
Before he could lose interest and move on with his day, she presses urgently, “Were we close friends? How much can you tell me?”
@[Arthas]