say you’ll remember me
She doesn’t see the flecks of gold in his eyes. Not at first.
She sees the strength in his shoulders, the masculinity in his frame. She watches his stride slink like a cougar gliding between horse bodies and scattered evergreen trees. The way he is so graceful, elegant almost, but yet his aura a shade of cold.
Cold. Like something terrible has happened before.
He is a predator; skilled in the art of stalking, master of the interrogation. She can feel his atmosphere press onto hers like a door trying to close an over flowing closet. Her aura is so much warmer than his, a pretty tone of pink or a pale shade of orange. Her dreams have no nightmares, her body has no scar. She is a clean slate, a pristine antique vase that has been kept locked in a grandmother’s china cabinet.
he’s so tall
She, unlike him, isn’t captivated by danger. Her greatest fear in fact is death. She worries one day she will come to that time in her life, old with wrinkles, bruises, and an unflattering muscle tone, and close her eyes to sleep but never to wake up. Her fear is of the unknown; does she truly die, fall into an acoma, never realizing what happened but just an eternity of blackness? Or, does the light at the end of the tunnel greet her spirit like a child coming home from her first day of school, surrounded by souls who traveled just as she did—exhausted, but fortunate to forever wander her second life happy and free?
Death is her biggest fear, and therefore danger is her enemy.
Knowing this should chase her away, her wall of guard should go up and her heart should race. Though, none of this happens. She is enticed by his aura, coldness, dark. She longs to pick apart his introverted mind, piece by piece, heart to heart. Though danger is petrifying, the gift of knowing someone’s story is all too intriguing.
even in my wildest dreams
He is watching her.
He is coming to her.
And she is very, very awkward.
She shifts to face him, no longer trying to ignore the fact this brute has found her way to her space. Her head lifts slowly, hearing his baritone words ring into her ears like the lowest note on a base guitar. Just a low hum of comfort.
Soft, but strong.
“No,” she exhales, realizing all along her breath had been held for an unbelievably long time. Her heart begins to pound, even her organs know it has been far too long since the last time she socialized. Even a body part only functioning her blood flow is telling her he is a very big step. Why not the little grey mare over there… She seems easier to talk to.
But no, she doesn’t move, her outer atmosphere is as cool and collected as she can possibly make it. “I got sick of the heat, felt I was getting a sunburn.”
That’s a lie. She enjoys the heat of her home, but sometimes the grass feels greener in another place.
There were certainly no individuals close to his quality at home.
“I like Tarnished,” she states openly; the quality of a good name should never be shortened. True, it might be quality over quantity, but Tarnished sounded like too sophisticated of a name to be cut.
“Exemplary,” her eyes level at his, her words coming out of her mouth smoother than a knife spreading margarine. So easy, even, that she was even surprised.
Even her heart let off just the slightest bit.
Exemplary
I will be yours, and only yours, until the day I fade to black