She is a taut spread of skin over bones and muscle, cartilage and connective tissue. Synapses firing, blink. (The Wind curls its long fingers around her ear and clings on, pressing it's translucent and ratty face close. It's limp body waving like a flag, “find her and rip. Her. Eyes. Out. Make her pay,” it is a sad and venomous rattle. It lets go and flings off towards the trees, wailing. A rootless messenger.)
Synapses misfiring.
The red mare is still tracking Wind's direction, her brows pulled together in an uneasy furrow, when he converges on her — she glances quickly between the two before catching on him. Corporeal, waiting him. For a moment she graces his silence with a self-same offering. His, perhaps curious. Perhaps expectant. Hers smoldering and pernicious. “I was...” there is exasperation in her voice, breath heavy, “Well I was talking to someone.” Trying to find someone. There is an almost girlish petulance in her narrow and chastising eyes.
She smooths it all out. Makes it neat and tidy. Smiling and calm, “Can I help you?” (How beyond help are you?) “Or, I suppose,” she tilts her head, pressing her lashes down towards the plane of her cheekbones exaggeratedly “You're here to help me?” Wink. She moves to brush his shoulder encouragingly before reconsidering and dropping the pretense.
“Listen. Quiet. You seem nice and all...”
(Haven't had nice in a while. We could do nice. Why don't you be nice to Quiet? Don't handle him so roughly! He didn't do anything to deserve it. Yes, be nice. And normal! Nice and normal and quiet.) Aurane fixes him with a patronizing smile, a gruesome and unnatural fixture. (No. Its wrong. Abort.)
The red woman shifts her weight, dropping the corners of her mouth again, “Quiet, my name is Aur...” Her ears flick to the unhealthy squawk. “Hi.” Her dark eyes turn to the youth, a grin widening her face. She takes a half step towards him, stretching her neck out to examine the perverse, whiteish haze of his eyes. She is testing the boundaries around him, the hot exhale from her nostrils shifting strands of his hair before withdrawing.
“Is one of you injured?”
She narrows her eyes, a playful madness pulling at her face.
“Is one of you injured?”
“Would you like one of us to be? Because I'm sure if we put our heads together, the three of us, we could figure something out.”
(Blink. Quiet and Eyes march towards each other with a slow and ceremonial highstep. Pressing their foreheads together firmly. Firmly until their skulls fracture like eggshells, hatchlings of bone and brain poking out.) “What have you two come to tell me? Quickly. This is getting weird.”
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings
where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws.
Synapses misfiring.The red mare is still tracking Wind's direction, her brows pulled together in an uneasy furrow, when he converges on her — she glances quickly between the two before catching on him. Corporeal, waiting him. For a moment she graces his silence with a self-same offering. His, perhaps curious. Perhaps expectant. Hers smoldering and pernicious. “I was...” there is exasperation in her voice, breath heavy, “Well I was talking to someone.” Trying to find someone. There is an almost girlish petulance in her narrow and chastising eyes.
She smooths it all out. Makes it neat and tidy. Smiling and calm, “Can I help you?” (How beyond help are you?) “Or, I suppose,” she tilts her head, pressing her lashes down towards the plane of her cheekbones exaggeratedly “You're here to help me?” Wink. She moves to brush his shoulder encouragingly before reconsidering and dropping the pretense.“Listen. Quiet. You seem nice and all...”
(Haven't had nice in a while. We could do nice. Why don't you be nice to Quiet? Don't handle him so roughly! He didn't do anything to deserve it. Yes, be nice. And normal! Nice and normal and quiet.) Aurane fixes him with a patronizing smile, a gruesome and unnatural fixture. (No. Its wrong. Abort.)The red woman shifts her weight, dropping the corners of her mouth again, “Quiet, my name is Aur...” Her ears flick to the unhealthy squawk. “Hi.” Her dark eyes turn to the youth, a grin widening her face. She takes a half step towards him, stretching her neck out to examine the perverse, whiteish haze of his eyes. She is testing the boundaries around him, the hot exhale from her nostrils shifting strands of his hair before withdrawing.
“Is one of you injured?”She narrows her eyes, a playful madness pulling at her face.“Is one of you injured?”“Would you like one of us to be? Because I'm sure if we put our heads together, the three of us, we could figure something out.”(Blink. Quiet and Eyes march towards each other with a slow and ceremonial highstep. Pressing their foreheads together firmly. Firmly until their skulls fracture like eggshells, hatchlings of bone and brain poking out.) “What have you two come to tell me? Quickly. This is getting weird.”
where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws.
lines and shading
by bronzehalo
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