You're Just Like Heaven To Touch
Eyes of two different types appraise each other and then dance like timid butterflies on the surface of each other’s skin. Tiercel is careful not to linger anywhere except the delicate musings of her face and what lies around it; her pale forelock and the even paler shadows beneath her nearly black gaze. Shaded, she still seems luminous. Lovely. When she smiles for him it seems like an action taught but not mastered. He doesn’t smile back.
Tiercel is, however, relaxed. There’s nothing in his manners to indicate disappointment or anything other than contentment at their mild conversation. He’s got an easy sort of confidence that doesn’t boast. Much as he’d like to claim a self-born swagger, the attitude (like Islas’ smile) was patched on. It was a product of his gift, a feeling he’d desired to wear as someone wears a coat or glove.
“You think?” He questions her indecision, waiting a moment and then smirking. “I’m Tiercel…”
“...could you deal with being close to me?” He asks softly, truly curious now. The question lingers with a tension.
Tiercel
@[Islas]