She dreams she is alone, the stagnant air blanketing her cooled skin, droplets licking down her sides just as soon as the frost reforms across her spine. His voice, low and masculine, breaks the sounds of summer morning like a thunder clap in a green sky just before the tornado woke. She can tell he is the chaos, he is the unbridled fury. Neva doesn't look away as he approaches but instead greets the great man with the silhouette of her dark face over a single spotted shoulder.
Neva studies him in the early morning light. The golden tendrils play over the puckered scars, highlighting the badges from a time away from now. How many wars had he raged in Beqanna...or within himself? Neva turns the far corners of her dark lips upward with a slight curl and proceeds to greet the king properly with the pivot of her hips so she may give him her face...not her rear end. "Good Morning, Offspring." Her reply is low and almost flat as the early morning coats her throat in still morning dew. Neva knows that in a few hours she would seek the tall trees to shield her body from the heat so her skin would not remain damp with the melting frost.
But for now she would enjoy his company. The spotted woman was curious about those scars and the way they traced his skin like mountain ranges, growing and dipping here and there. He own is clean, spotted, but without mars. After all, her father had kept her from harm until the day of the Reckoning. "Out for a morning walk?" She is not sure what to say after a few moments of silence and growing afraid that he had perhaps caught her staring.
swayed by cold rejections