Wayra felt like her ice was cracking. She felt like it might fly to pieces and scatter about. Part of her longed for it to be gone. Part of her yearned to hear the sound of ice shattering. But, she was also afraid, afraid because that ice was her heart. This time, if she died, Wayra did not think she would be brought back. This time, there was no gray god to play games.
Would it be so bad, to just be gone? For a while now, Wayra hadn’t thought so. She hadn’t cared one way or the other. But now he was here, and he was very much alive. He was so very unlike her. Perhaps, here, in this purple boy, was something other than ice and snow and silence. He was fire, and if he burned her, well, at least she wouldn’t be so cold.
And oh, was he burning now. Wayra watched him through dark, unreadable eyes. He was angry, incensed even, and she watched it with fascination. Without even knowing what she did she took a step closer, and her lips parted, ever so slightly. Here was passion, here was fire. She let it wash over her, and she shuddered. It felt warm. She sighed, and it felt like her skin stopped jittering, it felt like her heart beat normally, just for a second. When she opened her eyes she tried to answer.
“I’m not sure. A mare? Wichita I think her name was.” Wayra tried to remember more details, tried to give him something to feed the anger in his eyes but suddenly stopped. His muzzle brushed her neck and the shock of it, the sensation of flesh, warm flesh, on her own caused her to hiss. Her neck went stiff, and she began to recoil, for he felt so warm. She was sure that steam would rise from where he touched.
But then she remembered. The shock gave way to memories, memories of being warm, memories of sunlight, of family. She leaned towards him, her eyes closed, hungry for all that he was and all that she wasn’t. To her surprise, tears began to fill her eyes, and somehow, against all odds, they were hot too. She swallowed them back, for he would leave soon, he would not stay like this forever, with his muzzle on her neck. Soon she would be cold again. She mustn’t get used to anything else. Her expression momentarily shattered into longing, hardened again as she looked into his eyes.
“I’ve heard there are those who achieve their desires.” Wayra paused, thinking about what it would feel like to want something and to get it. She couldn’t believe that she would. She didn’t dare think about that for herself. But for him, Kirin, she could imagine such a thing was possible. He did not seem used to disappointment.
“Perhaps…” She paused, feeling she was dangling over a cliff with nothing but miles of open air below her.
“Perhaps you are one of them.” And so there it was. Hope. A tiny, dangerous sparkling glint far at the back of her eye. Hope.
Wayra
the glass candles are burning
OOC: Woohoo! I'm back and will be more responsive.