MINYA
take that look from off your face
you ain't gunna burn my heart out
you ain't gunna burn my heart out
Night after night Minya dances upon a stage or the cobbles of the street. Night after night she turns herself into liquid and moves as if the music was the tide for her sea.
Her skin, like that frothing ocean, is salt-slick with sweat when she finishes this night. She gleams like a pearl as she steps out from her spot within the clearing. Silk sighs from her skin, caught in the midnight breeze and her lungs fill with the sweet smoke. When she inhales and all of her anxieties make way for her striving breath and the smoke of the night fires, only then does she turn numb and free beneath the music.
Her soul aches within her chest, her eyes gleam as they look out and wonder at a glimpse of gold. Would the Day girl be there? Bexley who told her all the truths she already knew and made them sting like a vesper’s bite.
Minya still stings - but she has learned to live with the pain. She has learned to dance out her agony and paint it on the walls and press it upon others. It was easy to deal out what she was dealt, it was easy to repay unkindness with unkindness. It was easy to forget what came first for her - her own rudeness or her own hurt.
She is slipping through the crowd, she is desperate to loave - though her trinkets chime their presence and make her leaving a tune for all to hear. She pushes past a man, but he turns and falls into step with her. There is a moment, a moment when his presence sends a shiver of awareness rocking through her torso. She can feel is proximity as well as if he were touching her, flesh to flesh.
Then he speaks and her glittering lips become a line as sharp as an arrow. And as swiftly as an arrow is loosed so they turn into a cool smile. Everything about the smile she turns upon him is beautiful. Even her most cruelest of gestures and expressions are gilded with a beauty that is so utterly devastating. Her smile is no different. Its cool is ice to match her eyes that bite like Jack Frost where they trail along his teasing lips.
“And what would a traveller know of dance?” Minya questions, her voice as soft as silk. Her fuschia hair gleams wickedly in the moonlight.
@Sterling| "speaks" | notes: eee <3
