11-02-2015, 05:39 PM
[do you mind if we time jump to present day? sorry i suck for waiting a month to reply :/ ]
Gaza can see her body tighten, the way her eyes flash from idleness to action and the way the hair on her skin raises ever so slightly. He sees dilation and hears the clenching of muscles - even now, he finds the sounds and sights odd. And yet that must be how the girl feels, for even though she is a ghost from his past, he is also ghost from hers. Whatever he said has put her on guard, and so he tries to present himself as non-threatening as possible. Body language is his thing, now.
He lets a little bit of hope jump into his sand-gold eyes and an easy smile spread across his face. “You just look so much like her,” he says, not knowing who else she might look like. Younger, though, and less world-weary. There is no skittishness in lightning, no; nothing more than a beautiful confidence, and even as the words drop from his mouth, he knows they aren’t as true as he wants them to be. He could say more about her mother, but just in case it was the mention of her that caused the woman to be wary, he forgoes it for now. “I’m Gaza. What’s your name?” He takes a step closer to her, digesting all the little tidbits of her that he can. And yet, for all the chemicals and body language, she is an enigma to him.
He finds that he likes it, that he is captivated by her, just as much as he was by her mother.
Gaza can see her body tighten, the way her eyes flash from idleness to action and the way the hair on her skin raises ever so slightly. He sees dilation and hears the clenching of muscles - even now, he finds the sounds and sights odd. And yet that must be how the girl feels, for even though she is a ghost from his past, he is also ghost from hers. Whatever he said has put her on guard, and so he tries to present himself as non-threatening as possible. Body language is his thing, now.
He lets a little bit of hope jump into his sand-gold eyes and an easy smile spread across his face. “You just look so much like her,” he says, not knowing who else she might look like. Younger, though, and less world-weary. There is no skittishness in lightning, no; nothing more than a beautiful confidence, and even as the words drop from his mouth, he knows they aren’t as true as he wants them to be. He could say more about her mother, but just in case it was the mention of her that caused the woman to be wary, he forgoes it for now. “I’m Gaza. What’s your name?” He takes a step closer to her, digesting all the little tidbits of her that he can. And yet, for all the chemicals and body language, she is an enigma to him.
He finds that he likes it, that he is captivated by her, just as much as he was by her mother.