elchanan
caught by guile/cut down by lust
The distance between them remains significant. Even Elchanan can read her stiff posture, and despite his initial desire to bound closer and introduce himself with the usual amount of unbridled enthusiasm, he holds himself firmly in place. Someone stronger than him would still be leery of leaning any closer to the strange woman who looks at him with cold, deep-blue eyes. They match the water, which churns and froths over the stretch of sand that separates them; and again he has to bite his tongue against the urge to remark upon their similarity.
For a moment he wonders if it was a good idea to say anything at all. Perhaps this was one of many times that someone smarter would have just kept their mouth shut, walked past her without saying a word and left without being scathed. But it is a small beach—she would have noticed him. And he would have felt guilty ignoring her anyway.
It’s difficult to tell through the encroaching shadows, but El thinks her coat is the soft gray of a well-polished sword; her hair, which falls in roughly curled clouds, is a nearly phosphorescent white. When she speaks, her voice is rough and tinged with something that sounds almost like disappointment at the fact that she has to acknowledge his existence: you go any closer to the water and some gull is going to think there’s two moons out tonight.
El tries not to let his ego be bruised by her stiff coldness. But that part of him has always been particularly sensitive.
He laughs. It’s a faint sound, made carefully and purposefully light; and carelessly he lets his lips fall into a smile, the sharp white teeth flashing like an arc of moonlight for the half-second they’re exposed to air.
“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” the archpriest answers. His voice is relaxed but wry: it has the drawling tone of someone who knows they are being made fun of and ignores it regardless. “I’m Elchanan. I hope this isn't private property. I'm from..." A brief pause. Well. Not here.”
@Saphira <3
