CYRENE .
per aspera ad astra
Having decided to approach the skittish, dark-pelted boy, Cyrene had expected many ways he could react. There was the obvious (running away), the possible (attacking blindly), and the unlikely (screaming—there had been a coyote pup once that simply refused to stop screaming until she had retreated back into the trees).
It seems she’d have to add violent choking to her list the next time she attempted to approach nervous creatures.
The girl’s already fragile hold on the chamomile bouquet broke completely the moment the boy started choking on his dinner, and they fell forgotten to the ground as Cyrene hastily tried to figure out what to do. She’d been slashed at, spit at, cackled at, (the list went on) in her lifetime, and she’d taken it all in stride—but she couldn’t let someone die the moment they met her, could she?!
"Oh! I’m so sorry! Please hold on sir, if you’ll just let me near you I can—" But he didn’t seem to register her presence at all, and as she stepped forward, he stepped back; she dodged flying bits of grass, he continued choking relentlessly. They danced to this ridiculous beat, back-and-forth, until at last his breaths steadied and his coughs stifled. As his eyes, a surprisingly brilliant copper yellow, finally began to focus, Cyrene realized with a start just how close in proximity they had gotten. Her widened eyes were mere inches from his—at this rate, he’ll choke on air—so with a quick prance backwards, she relaxed only when she found herself back at a respectable distance.
A silent moment passed, in which Cyrene steadied her panting breaths. Once she did, then—"Ahahahaha!” a peal of bright laughter exploded from her crimson lips, ringing across the starlit field. "I—I’m terribly sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at your misfortune,” she managed to gasp out after hurriedly regaining her composure. "I tend to laugh at inappropriate times, or so I’ve been told. I hope you’re alright now.” An abashed smile pulled at her lips as her amber orbs gazed mirthfully at his copper ones.
"My name is Cyrene. What is yours?”
It seems she’d have to add violent choking to her list the next time she attempted to approach nervous creatures.
The girl’s already fragile hold on the chamomile bouquet broke completely the moment the boy started choking on his dinner, and they fell forgotten to the ground as Cyrene hastily tried to figure out what to do. She’d been slashed at, spit at, cackled at, (the list went on) in her lifetime, and she’d taken it all in stride—but she couldn’t let someone die the moment they met her, could she?!
A silent moment passed, in which Cyrene steadied her panting breaths. Once she did, then—
@Auru | notes: best interaction ever x"D
