09-25-2021, 01:31 PM
ennis
He hears her before he sees her.
Or, more specifically, he hears her thoughts before he sees her. They are a jumble he does not quite know how to translate because he’s never been as good at this as Anaise is either.
But when she shifts, his head goes quiet and his heart immediately jumps into overdrive. He scans the immediate area, eyes white enough to show the whites, and braces himself—for what, he’s unsure.
And then he sees her bounding toward him, a pale pink fox, and she’s shouting at him to hold still. He is momentarily torn before obeying her command and flinging himself out of her path. His muscles tremble with indecision before, just as she leaps for his shoulder, he lurches out of her way.
There are several retorts that clamber up his throat, things he would have hurled at Anaise if it had been her flinging herself at him, but he swallows them all down around the lump in his throat. He sucks in a sharp breath, wheeling around to face the fox. He is not brave, do not mistake this for courage, but adrenaline spirals through his veins so fast that it strobes his vision.
“What are you doing?” he asks, more incredulous than demanding. And then he feels silly for talking to a two-tailed fox because maybe it hadn’t been her voice that had echoed across the sea of meadow grass as she’d bounded toward him. Maybe it had been someone else and he’d only thought it was the fox. But a cursory glance around the immediate area shows that they are alone, just the two of them here, and it had to have been her.
Or, more specifically, he hears her thoughts before he sees her. They are a jumble he does not quite know how to translate because he’s never been as good at this as Anaise is either.
But when she shifts, his head goes quiet and his heart immediately jumps into overdrive. He scans the immediate area, eyes white enough to show the whites, and braces himself—for what, he’s unsure.
And then he sees her bounding toward him, a pale pink fox, and she’s shouting at him to hold still. He is momentarily torn before obeying her command and flinging himself out of her path. His muscles tremble with indecision before, just as she leaps for his shoulder, he lurches out of her way.
There are several retorts that clamber up his throat, things he would have hurled at Anaise if it had been her flinging herself at him, but he swallows them all down around the lump in his throat. He sucks in a sharp breath, wheeling around to face the fox. He is not brave, do not mistake this for courage, but adrenaline spirals through his veins so fast that it strobes his vision.
“What are you doing?” he asks, more incredulous than demanding. And then he feels silly for talking to a two-tailed fox because maybe it hadn’t been her voice that had echoed across the sea of meadow grass as she’d bounded toward him. Maybe it had been someone else and he’d only thought it was the fox. But a cursory glance around the immediate area shows that they are alone, just the two of them here, and it had to have been her.
i see that scene, i hear that voice
Hearts and flowers: my drugs of choice
Hearts and flowers: my drugs of choice
@Sokali