She has no defense against someone like him.
He is so smooth and sure of himself and she feels meek in front of him, unable to match the brilliance of his glow. When he comes out of the water and toward her, she feels a flurry of butterflies in her belly, a little explosion of nerves although such things never rise to the surface of her expression. Instead she just stands there quietly, calmly composed, studying him with a face that is always a touch too serious.
“Hello,” she greets back before his mouth finds the gentle, youthful curves of her face. “Oh!” she says in surprise although she doesn’t draw back—doesn’t increase the distance between them. She has never been touched by someone other than her family and the sensation is queer; her skin dances beneath it and she feels the water from where it had dribbled down his chin. “Yes, that was me,” she admits and feels that strange little guilt for healing without getting consent first. “I’m sorry—I should have asked first.”
But she can’t stay there for long.
He carries the conversation forward and she breathlessly follows along, enamored with the rose gold and the stars and the confidence that seeps from him. “My name is Larke,” she says, slightly flustered and her attention getting snagged by the cool air coming from his wings. “I live in Tephra.” She doesn’t mention that she had been born in Loess or that the word was somehow always whispered in her home—in ways that she is not certain that she understands. She doesn’t know why but it feels almost forbidden.
And she feels a rush of excitement and fear and guilt when she realizes that’s where he lives.
“What are you doing here today?”
She imagines that he has all kinds of adventures; he doesn’t seem the kind to not.
as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
@[Malone]