She watches as he emerges from the river, water pouring from his dark body like it has its own current. She has seen glimpses of the kelpies and other sea-like creatures that also call Beqanna home, but she has never spoken directly to them. She does not immediately assume that he hails from the new kingdom since it’s not as if Beqanna itself is low on magic and strangeness, and she does not know enough about the species that have always existed here to recognize the differences—the different eyes and different gills.
She sees only that he is remarkably unique in comparison to anyone that she has met, and it is enough for her attention to be captivated.
He says if he had been spying he would not have been found, and this inspires a humored laugh from her. “You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she says, an echo of the laugh still lacing her words. She had long since shaken off the way he had, in fact, startled her—and the fact that if he had not said anything, she would not have seen him, which suggests he is correct in his assumption. But she is a stubborn thing and far too proud for her own good—too proud for someone so young that has accomplished literally nothing.
And definitely too proud to admit that she had lost round one of this imaginary battle.
His comment on her appearance being striking doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and she decides she would much rather talk about that rather than whether or not she stood a chance catching him spying. “You think I’m pretty? That’s so sweet of you,” she says with another brilliant smile, something like wicked delight glinting in her blue eyes. “You’re rather striking yourself.” She closes the distance between them, cattails brushing against her frosted skin. She tilts her delicate head upwards, an amused simper still settled casually on her lips when she answers his last question. “Stargaze.”
She sees only that he is remarkably unique in comparison to anyone that she has met, and it is enough for her attention to be captivated.
He says if he had been spying he would not have been found, and this inspires a humored laugh from her. “You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she says, an echo of the laugh still lacing her words. She had long since shaken off the way he had, in fact, startled her—and the fact that if he had not said anything, she would not have seen him, which suggests he is correct in his assumption. But she is a stubborn thing and far too proud for her own good—too proud for someone so young that has accomplished literally nothing.
And definitely too proud to admit that she had lost round one of this imaginary battle.
His comment on her appearance being striking doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and she decides she would much rather talk about that rather than whether or not she stood a chance catching him spying. “You think I’m pretty? That’s so sweet of you,” she says with another brilliant smile, something like wicked delight glinting in her blue eyes. “You’re rather striking yourself.” She closes the distance between them, cattails brushing against her frosted skin. She tilts her delicate head upwards, an amused simper still settled casually on her lips when she answers his last question. “Stargaze.”
S T A R G A Z E
