03-17-2017, 03:29 PM
we’re on each other’s team…
She looks up at him, the white of her fur tingling as she feels the thrill of doing something for her for once. Something she didn’t have to share—didn’t have to pretend to care about. Her power grasped within a black silk glove, counting her prayers like blessings as they dropped from heaven like trees drop their fruit. Reagan could gain her fulfillment from these blessings, and as she bathed in the rainbow of color that was Alek’s eyes, she knew that for once, her heartbeat had nothing to do with the stress of leadership, or the pain of heartbreak. She was living the rush of a momentary glance. She was not sure of the black sabino’s intentions, but for the moment, she didn’t care. Reagan would take this chance, come hell or high water. And when she saw his eyes change, and turn to liquid hunger, she found her mouth had gone dry. It has been so long since she had felt attractive. Always powerful—but only wanted for power, and then not wanted at all.
She turns then, pulling herself back into the form of her birth with an ease and a grace that belied her heritage. She steps out, and shakes her pelt free from the scars that marked her skin, and her hair goes black under the light of the moon. Would he notice? Would he ask questions? She did not wish to invite too much information about herself too soon, and the subtleties of who was, rather than what she was, remained of utmost importance. Once again, Ruan’s imaged flashed before her eyes, and the guilt that lay in the back of her throat threatened to choke her, but she swallowed it down and refused to give it another thought.
She smiles up at him, suddenly becoming quiet—almost girlishly shy. Never mind that she is older than most of the trees in this wood. Alek reminds her that she still has life to live. That maybe, there was something else out there for her besides a failing marriage and a dilapidated crown. That maybe…
“Power is in the eye of the beholder,” she says absently, almost gasping at the look of his smile as he appraises her body in the dark. “You could be born with the world in your hand, only to spend the rest of your life trying to keep it. To…” her voice catches here. “well, I find these days I would much rather be happy, than wield great power.”