Cobalt skies like midnight lies; any

[Cinzia]

cobalt skies like midnight lies

He’s not the wind or the wings or wonder of the world, yet he approaches her. She’s immediately aware of his presence, for he carries a strong one. Peering towards him through ebony lashes, the kittenish female nickers softly, encouraging his approach. The wind smooths her fur, bringing a small, sharp smile to her lips.

Hello, he says through smoke-filled lungs, stopping a respectful distance from her. A small shuffle of her wings sets them aglitter in the new-morning sun, but of other movements, there are few. “Good morning, Magnus,” she replies both demurely and with a coolness. She ponders momentarily of the husk in his voice, the tilt in his rugged head, and the glitter of gold in his eyes. He’s handsome; many things are.

“Quite well, thank you. The breeze is lovely,” she tilts her head, allowing the said breeze to shift her forelock away from her dim blue eyes. Unlike him, the disuse of her voice has not lead to rust and corrosion; in fact, to speak again feels like soft breath disturbing the dust along the window sill. Refreshing.

“I like to be called Cobalt, by the way.” Not Cinzia; not yet. “Have you lived here long?”

Cinzia

warm hellos and cold goodbyes

Art by Victoria Ridzel