11-15-2025, 12:13 PM
bael
He lifts his head slow, blinking lazy, and turns to look at her. Not at all what he expects to come swimming out of the trees at him, all light and stardust, that halo casting soft light across her brow. Beautiful, certainly, but he has always found himself drawn most strongly to the ugly things. Beauty is too fragile, he thinks, don’t take much to sully it. Much harder to make ugly things anything other than exactly what they are.
He does not respond to her greeting, merely casts his gaze past her to the ruin she references. The answer seems obvious, as they’re the only ones around as far as he can tell. He blinks back at her, thinks that he could show her.
He nudges a strand of ice across the earth between them, watches as it begins to climb her forelimb before he nods it back down into the dirt. He does not stay here where she stands the way his mother had done to him. It is not kindness that prevents him from doing so but a sort of laziness. It would simply take too much effort. The tendril of ice snakes back to him then, disappearing completely at his feet. He rolls one shoulder in a sort of shrug then, says, “guess so.”
He offers no further answer, merely stands and watches her. He does not suspect she’ll flee from him, though the ice he wields is born from terror, there is nothing overtly frightening about it. It had not been meant to scare her anyway, it had merely been a demonstration.
“You do that?” he asks, nodding to the stardust accumulating around her feet.
He does not respond to her greeting, merely casts his gaze past her to the ruin she references. The answer seems obvious, as they’re the only ones around as far as he can tell. He blinks back at her, thinks that he could show her.
He nudges a strand of ice across the earth between them, watches as it begins to climb her forelimb before he nods it back down into the dirt. He does not stay here where she stands the way his mother had done to him. It is not kindness that prevents him from doing so but a sort of laziness. It would simply take too much effort. The tendril of ice snakes back to him then, disappearing completely at his feet. He rolls one shoulder in a sort of shrug then, says, “guess so.”
He offers no further answer, merely stands and watches her. He does not suspect she’ll flee from him, though the ice he wields is born from terror, there is nothing overtly frightening about it. It had not been meant to scare her anyway, it had merely been a demonstration.
“You do that?” he asks, nodding to the stardust accumulating around her feet.
( they won’t muzzle the mouth that just bit ya )