07-25-2017, 02:51 PM
She can see that he does not know what to make of her yet. She is not that sweet simple thing she often appears to be, she has an edge that he did not expect; an edge that she did not know was such a permanent feature. But her whole life has been spent like this, she’s not un-used to having a monster in her personal space, and so she won’t shrink back, though she does flicker between visible and invisible much more often.
The rain begins to fall, and when she is unseen it splashes across the line of where her back should be. It chills her (is it the rain? Or is it him, with those glinting eyes and that dark aura?), and as he speaks again she finds her legs trembling. She doesn’t know what he wants to seem, but he is dark and threatening and that is enough to keep her small and subdued. But a part of her wants to push back, to stick up for herself as no-one has ever done before.
Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately) that part is silenced quickly.
She doesn’t know what to say - she doesn’t want to seem facetious or cheeky and earn punishment for her rudeness. She shakes her head, instead, biting her lip and keeping her eyes low to the ground (be good, be the horse they want you to be, it may be easier that way). She focuses on staying visible, not for long, but for long enough that he can see her being passive, willing. ‘Do what you will’, her posture says, ‘take from me what you want’. But a name, a name to put to the face, (a name to scream during any future nightmares), it is all she asks of him. “Who are you?” she speaks softly, allowing her gaze to flicker up for a few moments, though the gaze is not always seen. And then, for good measure, “What should I call you?”
@[Maugrim]
The rain begins to fall, and when she is unseen it splashes across the line of where her back should be. It chills her (is it the rain? Or is it him, with those glinting eyes and that dark aura?), and as he speaks again she finds her legs trembling. She doesn’t know what he wants to seem, but he is dark and threatening and that is enough to keep her small and subdued. But a part of her wants to push back, to stick up for herself as no-one has ever done before.
Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately) that part is silenced quickly.
She doesn’t know what to say - she doesn’t want to seem facetious or cheeky and earn punishment for her rudeness. She shakes her head, instead, biting her lip and keeping her eyes low to the ground (be good, be the horse they want you to be, it may be easier that way). She focuses on staying visible, not for long, but for long enough that he can see her being passive, willing. ‘Do what you will’, her posture says, ‘take from me what you want’. But a name, a name to put to the face, (a name to scream during any future nightmares), it is all she asks of him. “Who are you?” she speaks softly, allowing her gaze to flicker up for a few moments, though the gaze is not always seen. And then, for good measure, “What should I call you?”
@[Maugrim]
![[Image: n2oih3.png]](http://i64.tinypic.com/n2oih3.png)