09-01-2025, 04:58 PM
His growl seems to leap across the space between them and reverberates in her chest, something she feels more than hears. It is enough to make her step back, uncertainty now crowding out her curiosity. She had always considered herself to be cautious, but now, with the eerie inhale-exhale of danger so close, she realizes she has let her loneliness cloud her judgment.
Stupid, stupid.
She cannot see the sharp point to his teeth or see the way his steps mimic that of a predator, but she can again hear — feel — the way the air around him seems to ignite and flare to life. She does not know if she has always been able to feel such things, or if he carries a special kind of magic, one that is so powerful that you can hear the way it dismantles and rebuilds things to the cellular level. What she does know, plainly, is that he is the driving force behind it.
Another step back, and then it is as if something has taken hold of him and stopped his advancement.
His question catches her off guard, and she hesitates before admitting softly, nearly apologetic, “no.”
The answer feels wrong, as if she has failed at some test she did not know she was partaking in. Perhaps he will kill her now for not being able to behold his image and fear him in his entirety. She continues to stare blindly in his direction, the stars glittering back at him with their too-bright light, subtly shifting and twinkling, as if they haven’t any idea the trouble they are causing.
She wonders what her eyes look like to everyone else; if they find it intriguing or at all beautiful, or if they look just as horrific as they feel. Her memory of the stars that hung in the sky are of silver lights studded against blue-black, beautiful and seemingly innocent, nothing at all like the stark white that blinds her now. “I can’t see past the stars.”
Stupid, stupid.
She cannot see the sharp point to his teeth or see the way his steps mimic that of a predator, but she can again hear — feel — the way the air around him seems to ignite and flare to life. She does not know if she has always been able to feel such things, or if he carries a special kind of magic, one that is so powerful that you can hear the way it dismantles and rebuilds things to the cellular level. What she does know, plainly, is that he is the driving force behind it.
Another step back, and then it is as if something has taken hold of him and stopped his advancement.
His question catches her off guard, and she hesitates before admitting softly, nearly apologetic, “no.”
The answer feels wrong, as if she has failed at some test she did not know she was partaking in. Perhaps he will kill her now for not being able to behold his image and fear him in his entirety. She continues to stare blindly in his direction, the stars glittering back at him with their too-bright light, subtly shifting and twinkling, as if they haven’t any idea the trouble they are causing.
She wonders what her eyes look like to everyone else; if they find it intriguing or at all beautiful, or if they look just as horrific as they feel. Her memory of the stars that hung in the sky are of silver lights studded against blue-black, beautiful and seemingly innocent, nothing at all like the stark white that blinds her now. “I can’t see past the stars.”
Rare
