Arah HAPPINESS CAN AWLWAYS BE FOUND EVEN IN THE DARKEST OF TIMES; IF ONE ONLY REMEMBERS TO TURN ON THE LIGHT
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I
f one truely had words to spare, she pondered on why he was said so little. Trifling throughs sped through her inquisitive mind. As he offered only a tidbit here and there. It left her feeling out of balance, seeking more but unsure of how to draw him out. Though, as admitted, she was hardly a golden conversationalist. The deepness to his strange eyes lured her in, held her there. Pinned under the molten pools of rich metallic gold.
In truth, the silver doe had long learned she was not one for violence. This role she played now was brief, a vixen caught in trouble. A pale women draped in innocence so decadently, she ought to be invited into your bed or allowed to slip away. Most wanted to adapt the role of the white knight, permitting her virtue remain whole. Although, these days, the doe was in actuality far from innocent of virtuous. They did not need to know this. This one however seemed gentler, almost cautious to not spook her. Was he playing the longer game to catch his prey unawares?
Realising that she did not have the same natural skill for lies and secrets as others assisted her shift to scholar. Books and knowledge were better suited to her mind and disposition. While her mentors could train her and teach her all their skills, she would always lack that natural edge. Some tricks she kept, like watching the eyes. They were always the most telling, even if one did not realise it. Lies from the left. Truths from the right. Secrets and knowledge spilled out from the pools consistently. Though his eyes gave away little, toying with her. Painted over with molten gold she relied on other indications from the painted wolf. An involuntary twitch, lie. A softening of his features, warmth. Looking down, embarrassed. She ran through the checklist in her mind. Though warriors were harder novels to read, trained in strength and god-like decorum. Both draped, somewhat lazily, from his impressive frame.
The doe did enjoy the puzzle of others. They were almost more interesting than the riddle of books and ancient knowledge.
Beholden to her nature, she would allow the game to play out naturally. Her features softened at the thought, all harshness leaking away as if it had never been there. There were no silver daggers concealed beneath her pale warmth. No ice in her veins anymore, though she appeared cold to many. Merely caution and a personality that enjoyed the mystery of others saw her adapting the false vixen persona. It was always fun for a time but would always eventually fall away as others found the tenderness beneath the surface. The fleshly underside of a top heavy animal.
For a moment she thinks him enraptured. A pawn. But she herself is playing, perhaps, a little too hard. That always made it easier to see through her facade. Her approach is softened, not to startle, sticking with her original intention of equal grounding.
The reaction is minimal. Keeping her in his vision she allows her own amusement to flash across her features. Corners turning up in a genuine expression of humour.
Under the goddess’ gaze, she is emboldened. Ivory and silver. But in the heat of the sun her metals become soft, the silver painting her flesh tempers and the gold pooling in her eyes grows weary. So she must instead conceal herself, beneath the vixen. The teasing, playful creature, too pure for corruption. But the truth is always there. If one looks hard enough they will see the doe. The innocence that had once coated her in entirely may still be found clinging to the odd thread of her demeanour. In a way the vixen is a protector, hiding the doe and all her pains away.
Mother, daughter, scholar, loyal, brave, intelligent, cautious, cold, calculating and more. She can not fit under a single label anymore. No one can. If he wished to describe her, it was hoped he be inventive in his language. Certainly flattering too.
He is indeed many things. The possiblitiles flood her head but she ignores them. Focused on the presented evidence of this encounter rather than what she might like to judge him to be. Remaining in his gaze she shivers under the weight, under the pressure of her performance. Wynter stays close but is placated in her observer role. So far the interaction suggested that he was far more familiar with this game than she was pretending to be. Her own past, even now, laughed at her attempts to reclaim the purer (perhaps even playful) parts of herself. Any attempt to let go, cease her worries, merely resulted in cases being presented as to why she should continue her anxieties. It was a vicious, trauma lead, circle. So she preformed the dance to protect herself from further pain. Yet how can she recover if she doe not begin to reclaim those softer parts of herself?
A test then. She presents a crack at his warm words. A glimpse of her truth. Enabling her body to be enveloped in his wide shadow, his strong and masculine frame almost completely encompasses her. Allows the surprise at her amusement of their exchange to brighten her expression. It was an unexpected reaction to him, yet she was enjoying him all the same. Now warmth fills her vocals, from musical vixen toying with him to a more genuine silver woman. Their ivories gleaming in the sweet summer sun. ”As I am neither inclined to cruelty or knighting strangers," pausing for breath she lifted her gaze. Titlting her head the mask slipped as she fell into the depths of his molten pools. The sun burned through to her soul and as gold clashed with gold she was reminded of a heat that had once burned within her spirit. The enjoyment others could draw out within her. Blinking she broke the connection in herself and an concealing sniff was drawn own. I would wish to call you by your name." The doe finished her thought, somewhat abruptly. Though she did not allow the mask to return, she did turn her gaze away, allowing the weight of his gaze to rest on the back of her neck.
Not immediately presenting her own credentials she relinquished the direction of their interaction to him. She had not asked for his name. Only presented a desire to him. How he reacted would inform her next move. A curtin call or a new character.
