a killer come to call, beyza

[Beyza]

If she had thought to, she would have dulled her edges when he reached for her. Would have turned herself into mist so that he would pass right through her. But she had not been expecting it - even as she watched him approach. Even as she felt what it was to be touched by a shadow - her breath hitching a little upon contact that was not quite contact. Like walking from bright sun to the relief of a forest, like the arrival of night after a long day. She does not register his disappointment at her  - and perhaps they are better for it. His words hold her attention instead, her heartbeat picking up ever so slightly at their newfound proximity. In reaction to it, her fog churns around them - not the healing silver mists but the white vapours that she unconsciously uses to mimic shadows until they swirl around both of their legs. He doesn't retreat from her again and it makes her bold. Desperate to change his rejection into acceptance - whether of her magic or just herself it didn't really matter. Either would do. Beyza considers his words, her bright gaze finally shifting from his face as she reaches out to touch him in turn - blurring her edges as she does so that when their vapours meet it is a blending of light mist and deepest shadow. Her words are soft against his not-skin, as she dares to breathe just a touch of cool relief into each as it might ripple across his shadow self like the surface of a pond. “We could find out.” There's a wariness to her - as she pulls back and looks into his eyes again, as she feels her entire body tense and remain on edge waiting for his reaction. She tempers that dangerous (thrilling) proposition with softer words, spoken into the space between them. “It is part of you, but it doesn't have to be everything.” beyza

artwork by kharthian