the opposite of love's indifference; drow

[pyxis]

she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees make you think she means it this time There are things Pyxis does not understand. She does not understand why her father ran away in the middle of the night; she does not know why her mother still pines for him; she does not understand why others so easily give away their hearts. She cannot comprehend the ways in which others seem so eager to be hurt. Pyxis would never make that mistake—she had promised that to herself a long time ago. She would never spit up her heart to lay at someone else’s feet and hope they would not trample upon it. No, she would keep it for herself. That is not to say Pyxis did not enjoy the company of others.  She had learned that she liked the way that someone else’s breath feels rolling down her neck; she enjoyed the feel of warm flesh pressed up against her own. She could lose herself for hours in conversation and appreciated a warm sense of humor. But that is where it ends. She does not open herself up to them like a flower to the sun. Rather, she remained hidden in the shadows, taking small pieces as they were given to her and never giving them back. So, it is with the expectation of this selfish companionship that she enters into the meadow this morning, her head lifted high and her eyes bright with anticipation. She herself was beautiful in the way her entire family seemed to be; she was a mixture of mahogany and onyx and ivory, the colors blending together and then peeling away—but it was the eyes that often captured the attention. Ice blue, they peeked from behind the tangled mess of her inky forelock and stood out starkly against the white mask claiming most of her face. They were sharp, piercing, almost ethereal in the right light. (Still, she found herself wishful for the jade green of her mother’s eyes.) Smiling to herself, Pyxis wandered the edge of the meadow, watching others carefully before coming to rest underneath the boughs of a large tree. Sighing, she let herself become content in the silence, as she was wont to do. For every moment that she was around others, leaching their company, she needed these moments to recharge. She may have come here to find a temporary friend (she did not keep the same company for long—it flirted too closely with her personally set boundaries), but if she was to spend the day by herself, she would be fine.  Happy, even. she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair but I still love her, I don't really care