[open] there's an art to life's distractions

[Laurelin]

“Chasmata.” He repeats her name, committing it to his memory (he has forgotten names in the past, but it’s not his fault they weren’t interesting). Hers is unique, it doesn’t feel like liquid gold on his tongue like his own does but it pleasant in it’s difference. Any hope there might have been that he’d return the compliment she had given about his name is lost when she moves a little closer.  He does not mind the closeness - in fact he’s having a hard time trying to decide whether he enjoys it more because he can look at Chasmata’s markings, which are unlike anything he has ever seen - having spent no time in the north, or because it seems right that she should want to be closer to him. Her question surprises him a little and he turns his head to look at the sparks that rise from his hair. “You know, I don’t actually know.” They had never harmed him, but then he had never tried to catch one of them. There’s an impish smile when he looks back at her and speaks again. “I hope not, but if you’re feeling bold - you can try.”

image from unsplash

@[chasmata]