Mesnyi
sharpest thoughts cannot always be left unsaid.
H
er gaze follows him as he stalks about her and she makes to follow with her head as well but then - he stops, with the last note of the violin, a piece of the music himself. Her lungs sing praises as they let out a held breath. She intends to hold the pause for as long as he does. The wind sifts through them like a dying goldpanner before there is sound in the woods again.”Do you often give it the chance?” Mesnyi scrunches her nose at the snap of his wide, dark wings. Her patience wanes, and yet she feels some relief that there is something to talk about (but not enough, he still frightens her, oh yes). ”I don’t imagine I would, if I owned such a thing.”
Mesnyi lets her lip curl, just enough. ”No, I don’t imagine you would.” She thought about the words before she said them, as always, and all the disdain in her said yes before all the diplomacy in her could say no. The violin tripped on a note as her mind did. She grinned with too many teeth and said, sickly sweet, ”Please excuse my manners. It was a slip of the tongue.”
Not really.
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
plotter
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