A Rose in the Rain {Heartfire}

[Nymphetamine]

He watched her now, curious as to why she had singled him out from the crowds around them. She seemed vibrant compared to his deep set sadness. Her amusement with him in the moment they were sharing visible at the corner of her eyes. The slight crinkle of humor shown at the creases. He wished he could join her in that joy, as happiness was rather lost on him for the time being. Sure being startled was an amusing thing, but he still couldn’t muster enough merriment from the vision of his flailing to really get a laugh from it. But she was a different story, comfortable, she wasn’t making a mockery of him but she was amused, it was fair enough. He voice quipped more that her features… saying just enough but not enough to tell him the details, or for the bay to be able to get a clear grasp on her. She toyed his the knowledge she gave him, and with that his curiosity was peaked. Ever so slightly it pulled him forth from the melancholy pit he had placed himself in… it was an ever subtle change. He still ached for the loss of Killdare, but it was ever so slightly less than before. ”There have been a few different battles in my time here, I’m afraid that helps me none, perhaps a name? It would only be fair, as you seem to know mine but I do not know yours.”

And as with most things, curiosity gave way to closer observation, he noted the way her coat almost danced white hairs among the charcoal-black, the smell of mineral water from the coast that clung to her as a beacon of her herd lands, the way her eyes were far more expressive than any word she had said thus far. He wasn’t trying to be overbearing, more just coming out of the fog. ”You live by salt water do you not? So you are Nerine or Ischia bound? Though that doesn’t necessarily tell me how you know me…” His voice turned to mimic hers in tone, allowing the game to pull him in, the dance of coy mystery acting as a distraction tactic that he had no problem diving into. If ever there was an acceptable time, this was one.

He stood a little taller now, straightened himself out, took on the stature that he normally did. Just not quite as crisp, and with sadness still seeded deep in his eyes-- that he could not shake. The autumn breeze whipped around the two, and if he allowed himself he could just imagine they were alone in the meadow. As if the breeze had whisked them off to some other plane, where their game would go uninterrupted. Just them able to complete their dance distraction free, but obviously that was not the case. He smirked just ever so slightly and allowed himself to take her space. Not in ownership, no that was not it, but there was a minor possessive quality in the fringes. A need to possess her secrets, what she hid behind her amused grin and subtle non-answers. He didn’t touch her but he got as close as her body language said she would allow, and he moved around her questioning his own boldness, but ultimately he allowed it to continue. Perhaps it was just the curiosity, perhaps it was an actual attraction, or maybe he was just upset and was finding comforting distraction where he thought one could be found… but he had to admit there was some tension between them, at least how he perceived it.

The blood bay had been wrong before, in fact, he may never have gotten it completely right. Keeva left him, Kimber-- well he never truly had, Nikita should have been right, but he could make it work. His rap sheet was well intentioned but never fully complete. One none-relationship after the other. Under those indicators, he surely was wrong and would leave humiliated… more than he already was after being scared like a ninnie then this unnamed lady approached him. Well, it was too late now, he had taken an innocent curiosity and put a slightly sexual charge on it. What. Had. He. Done. Sorrow can make a man do silly things if he was more self-aware he would have known that sorrow is just a catalyst, but Nymph wasn’t, at least not now, not at the moment.

The blood bay stopped his inspection, in so many words, and doubled back allowing his hip to just ever so slightly come into contact with her side and he turned away… that is if she didn’t shy away from him, or just kick him square in hock. The afternoon sun sank lower with each passing moment, though he felt no urge to leave, sexual tension, or totally made up man-nonsense, he was enjoying this conversation all things considered.

Nymphetamine

in my heart, that barless prison
discolours all with tunnel vision