♙ p a n d o r a ♙
I thought of angels choking on their halos
get them drunk on rose water
Pandora is so focused on getting away from her aggravators that she’s doing a rather poor job of watching where she’s going – she’s well-accustomed to running away from things, but she’s also well-accustomed to conditional immortality, and she still hasn’t developed the oh-so mortal sense of caution. When she collides with a much taller, though not bulkier, man, Pandora stumbles back awkwardly; by her dancer’s grace, she doesn’t manage to get tangled up in her own vast expanse of tail, and she rights herself quickly, blinking up at him through long, dark lashes. He’s quick to apologize, and she feels one of those genuine, curious smiles grow across her lips. A polite one. Interesting - though not nearly as interesting as the look at him. “No worries,” She says, with an easy, light half-laugh. “Happens a lot, when you’re my size.” She’s had a few thousand years to grow accustomed to being short.
She raises her chin to drink in the sight of him in his entirety – and oh, he’s a marvelous creature. She might call him exquisite. (Ex-quiz-it. What rhymes with Exquisite? She can think about it later.) He’s as dark as the sky at midnight, and his scales and hooves and horns only further the metaphor. When she looks at their shiny surfaces, it is like she’s staring up at great clouds of nebulous matter, but they’re close – oh-so close, so clear, so wonderful. (Pandora has explored countless lands over the years, but she’s never found a way to stand any closer to the stars, but he’s as close as she’s ever been.) His long tresses are white as snow, and they run down his spine to the tip of his leonine tail; they catch in the wind. He offers her a jubilant smile, and she feels hers broaden in turn, while taking note of his fangs. Pandora is a scaled creature, like him, but he is more dragon than she. As her gaze rises to meet his icy eyes, she realizes that one of them is scarred over and white; he’s blinded, she thinks. Call it a storyteller’s curiosity, but she can’t help but wonder how he was injured.
“Say…” She says, taking a step towards him, still grinning, “you look to me like the kind of man with some stories to tell.” She tosses him a wink, and continues. “I’m something of a story-collector, myself. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to explore this festival with me, maybe tell me a bit about yourself?” It wouldn’t hurt to have some company, she decides, especially in this strange new land that she’s only beginning to get her bearings in – much less interesting company. (Or, on the off chance that she was wrong, pretty company, which was the second-best variety.) She tilts her head slightly, ears twitched forward to wait for his reply.
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tags | @Relic
notes | <3
I thought of angels choking on their halos
get them drunk on rose water
Pandora is so focused on getting away from her aggravators that she’s doing a rather poor job of watching where she’s going – she’s well-accustomed to running away from things, but she’s also well-accustomed to conditional immortality, and she still hasn’t developed the oh-so mortal sense of caution. When she collides with a much taller, though not bulkier, man, Pandora stumbles back awkwardly; by her dancer’s grace, she doesn’t manage to get tangled up in her own vast expanse of tail, and she rights herself quickly, blinking up at him through long, dark lashes. He’s quick to apologize, and she feels one of those genuine, curious smiles grow across her lips. A polite one. Interesting - though not nearly as interesting as the look at him. “No worries,” She says, with an easy, light half-laugh. “Happens a lot, when you’re my size.” She’s had a few thousand years to grow accustomed to being short.
She raises her chin to drink in the sight of him in his entirety – and oh, he’s a marvelous creature. She might call him exquisite. (Ex-quiz-it. What rhymes with Exquisite? She can think about it later.) He’s as dark as the sky at midnight, and his scales and hooves and horns only further the metaphor. When she looks at their shiny surfaces, it is like she’s staring up at great clouds of nebulous matter, but they’re close – oh-so close, so clear, so wonderful. (Pandora has explored countless lands over the years, but she’s never found a way to stand any closer to the stars, but he’s as close as she’s ever been.) His long tresses are white as snow, and they run down his spine to the tip of his leonine tail; they catch in the wind. He offers her a jubilant smile, and she feels hers broaden in turn, while taking note of his fangs. Pandora is a scaled creature, like him, but he is more dragon than she. As her gaze rises to meet his icy eyes, she realizes that one of them is scarred over and white; he’s blinded, she thinks. Call it a storyteller’s curiosity, but she can’t help but wonder how he was injured.
“Say…” She says, taking a step towards him, still grinning, “you look to me like the kind of man with some stories to tell.” She tosses him a wink, and continues. “I’m something of a story-collector, myself. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to explore this festival with me, maybe tell me a bit about yourself?” It wouldn’t hurt to have some company, she decides, especially in this strange new land that she’s only beginning to get her bearings in – much less interesting company. (Or, on the off chance that she was wrong, pretty company, which was the second-best variety.) She tilts her head slightly, ears twitched forward to wait for his reply.
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tags | @Relic
notes | <3
