it's a guarantee that he won't forget me.
my body little, my soul heavy.
What beauty Naia finds in the bitter blood and glowing ivory of her companion lives in her need to understand and be all of the ferocity in the universe. When she looks at Brazen, she sees how strange and incredible their world is - she sees that she is not alone in the cutting glares she used to receive.
And, truthfully, her jealousy is a live and writhing thing when she imagines how others must see the crimson bone. She misses when her first impressions were her own and not some flippant lie controlled by magic.
Naia is shocked by the lips pressed to her scales, eyes wide and blinking. She holds her breath for the time that she and Brazen are connected, in awe of a gesture she is not placing upon another. A smile, one wistful and delighted all at once, hesitantly curves her lips, and she would lean into that protective gentility if she thought she could.
“Brazen,” the nereid repeats, and the name sounds strong and right in her mouth. There is no flirty bat of her eyes or coquettish tilt of her head; no, Naia has no idea how to sashay when she wants someone to find her attractive (and apparently she will never have to). She simply is, firm and grounded, pale brown eyes honest in their analyzation.
“Well, thank you for thinking that. I don’t think I like all of the attention . . .” Her eyes flit to the chestnut’s and then down to the sand, nervous from such vulnerability. “Though yours is welcome.” There it is, her first ever flirtation, and she almost immediately shies away from the blush that rises in her cheeks. “My name is Naia,” she murmurs, then laughs, “Maybe we can ask Carnage to swap bodies for a day.”
She wonders what it would be like to be under Brazen’s skin, but then again - she is not sure in which way she means that.
@[Brazen]