A pair of small blue ears flick forward to capture the sound of that laugh before it has a chance to disperse amongst the stars. I haven’t even tried sleeping yet, the woman says and her smile is enough to coax something similar from Lusters pale, white mouth. “It’s late though,” she says, worried, as though this has not been made obvious by the moon and the stars and the endless black of night, “are you alright?” The worry in her chest is reflexive, easy, and she cannot help but wonder what it is that keeps her sleep at bay.
She is distracted by a name, Djinni, and she smiles again quietly because somehow the name matches the soft gold of those earrings and Luster finds she likes the balance. “It suits you.” She says, eyes bright and luminous, gentle when they drift from those earrings and back to that delicate chestnut face.
But the worry she feels when she finds those bangles is not appeased by the wryness of the smile that greets her. You don’t like them? The mare asks, and Luster can only cling to her silence because the truth feels to rude to say out loud. No. She thinks instead, vehement and confused, but she is careful not to let too much of that feeling slip across her face. Once she might’ve thought them beautiful, solid sunlight, burnished and bright, but now it means something different and she finds that they make her feel a little sick. I’ve gotten rather used to them.
Lusters small head lilts slightly, tipping sideways as confusion leaks like shadow across the marbled blue of her face. “Gotten used to them?” She repeats it like a question, and she knows she is digging, prying, but she cannot help herself, “you haven’t always had them?” Maybe the worry in her voice will soften the intrusiveness of what she asks.
But Djinni shakes her off with a new question, light and easy and Luster doesn’t even notice when it happens. “We haven’t.” She agrees, and the smiles that appears on those starshine lips so soft, so open. “I moved here just recently with my family. I met a girl in the meadow once - Rora,” she pauses and her brow furrows in quiet question, “do you know Rora? She told me a little about Sylva, and I fell in love with the sound of it.” She pauses again and to keep her eyes from flicking back down to those gleaming bangles, she lifts her chin to the sky to lose herself in the constellations above them. “What about you, Djinni. Have you lived here long?There are stars in her voice, silver and lonely, and when she chances a glance back at the beautiful chestnut spotted mare, they flash in the brown of her eyes, too.
She is distracted by a name, Djinni, and she smiles again quietly because somehow the name matches the soft gold of those earrings and Luster finds she likes the balance. “It suits you.” She says, eyes bright and luminous, gentle when they drift from those earrings and back to that delicate chestnut face.
But the worry she feels when she finds those bangles is not appeased by the wryness of the smile that greets her. You don’t like them? The mare asks, and Luster can only cling to her silence because the truth feels to rude to say out loud. No. She thinks instead, vehement and confused, but she is careful not to let too much of that feeling slip across her face. Once she might’ve thought them beautiful, solid sunlight, burnished and bright, but now it means something different and she finds that they make her feel a little sick. I’ve gotten rather used to them.
Lusters small head lilts slightly, tipping sideways as confusion leaks like shadow across the marbled blue of her face. “Gotten used to them?” She repeats it like a question, and she knows she is digging, prying, but she cannot help herself, “you haven’t always had them?” Maybe the worry in her voice will soften the intrusiveness of what she asks.
But Djinni shakes her off with a new question, light and easy and Luster doesn’t even notice when it happens. “We haven’t.” She agrees, and the smiles that appears on those starshine lips so soft, so open. “I moved here just recently with my family. I met a girl in the meadow once - Rora,” she pauses and her brow furrows in quiet question, “do you know Rora? She told me a little about Sylva, and I fell in love with the sound of it.” She pauses again and to keep her eyes from flicking back down to those gleaming bangles, she lifts her chin to the sky to lose herself in the constellations above them. “What about you, Djinni. Have you lived here long?There are stars in her voice, silver and lonely, and when she chances a glance back at the beautiful chestnut spotted mare, they flash in the brown of her eyes, too.
