I was about to say “I mean-- you smell like the sea.” For his scent contained far more nuance than mere fishiness. His was the scent of brine and seaweed, the freshness and the almost-danger of the wild edge where the waves crashed into the cliffs. It was hard not to like those in-between places. Like the foothills that straddled the prairie and the mountain, or the tree line above which the armas were bald and rocky or else covered in snow. Or, of course, the ocean where it met the continent. The ocean being my favorite for it had a different mood every time we met.
But Caspian could not know what I did not say. All he knew was that I thought he smelled like fish. Bless him for rolling with my embarrassing attempt at… well, whatever that was. Flirtation? He was much better than I at this game. But I would learn!
The clack of his teeth just inches away from my ear sent goose pimples down my neck. I laughed, my embarrassment quickly fading and amusement taking its place. “You’re terrible and I don’t believe you.” And then I realized how close he was standing and I felt a little breathless. Like there was something heavy pressed against my chest. “I was just kidding, you know. About the fish. I don’t know why I said that... You smell nice.” I barely registered the words slipping out of me, they were just noise. I hadn’t realized before then how space and silence complemented each other, how the less space there was, the more I felt like I needed to hurry and fill the silence.
A neater solution would have been to take a step back, but I didn’t particularly want to do that.
I opened up my mouth to say something else meaningless when somewhere in the distance a wolf began to howl. My wolf. Calling for me, long and loud, in a language that swayed me more than boys and wine and fires. I turned my head and looked deep into the darkness as though I could see into the night’s mysteries, my brow furrowed in a stern line.
When I finally turned back to the boy and the firelight, it dawned on me that I was afraid of the person I would become if I stayed. I was not ready to give up a piece of my heart, and his grin was quickly breaking down my hastily-built walls. I was not ready to be anything more than just a girl roaming the world with a demonic wolf-pup at her heels. “My wolf is calling. It might be a prank, but it could also be something interesting, or he could be hurt...” Despite my love of brevity, I often used too many words to say sorry. I do not remember how long I hesitated before speaking again; I got myself all tangled up in his eyes and time got soft.
“So, um, I’m gonna go now. If you’re ever in Denocte, ask around for me. My name is Aspara.” I bumped his cheek with my nose in a rough and hurried goodbye that was too embarrassed to be a kiss, and I laid the rest of his wine gently on the ground. As I slipped away I only looked back once, and I caught his gaze with a grin before I gave myself to the night.
deepens into them.
@Caspian always a joy to write with you <3 and I realized I never shared where the thread title is from!
"She stared at the conched hillside / as though the season became her. / As though a threshold was opening / Somewhere inside her, no woman more beautiful than she was. / No song more insistent than the beat of that white foot, / As she stepped / full of desire. / Her golden shoe like a sun in the day’s deep chamber. / I remember the way she looked as she stood there, / that look on her face."
— Charles Wright
