cold in the violence after the war
hope is a fire to keep us warm
She watches in fascination as sleek fur undulates into smooth, shimmering scale. A transformation that would draw the eye of any but the blind. Even then, Brazen wonders if the blind might somehow notice. She doesn’t realize she had been holding her breath until her lungs remind her with increasing persistence she needs air to live. Sucking in a break, she blinks, before ducking her head and coughing with embarrassment into her knees.
Damn. Her new companion must thing her an absolute ninny.
Maybe she is a ninny, because she can’t seem to help the way her eyes are drawn insistently back to the lovely woman, roving her beauty as though she were a dying woman in the desert and Naia an oasis.
If she’d had the forethought, she might have been confused. She’d never encountered anyone with such a lovely, enticing mien about them before. Had she any thought at all, she might even have realized it couldn’t be natural. But, alas, Brazen is only a young girl beset by too many hormones.
It takes her a moment to register that the nereid had spoken, her muzzle brushing pale bone as she inquires after it. “Oh,” she says, rather dumbly. “Um. Yes, I suppose I did”
She had never had anyone express fascination and admiration for her rather unorthodox body protection before, and at first she’s not quite certain how to react. “Thank you,” she replies slowly, her brows furrowing behind the bone that masks her face as she searches her companions much more lovely features uncertainly. As though she might find the confirmation of her honesty in the lines of skin more than the breath of her words. “Did you… mean that?”
Brazen
@[naia]
