There is a moment of suspended time between them as they lock stares. Hers is like amethyst glass, almost lavender in the evening light. She doesn’t move, only flicking her ears up and eyes widening a little to take in the approaching shadowman and the curling fog creeping in with him. He approaches sort of slow, like he is tired, like he might collapse at any moment. She can hear him breathe, so he is a living being at least. Still though, something isn’t quite right.
His introduction hangs in emptiness for a moment. The breeze rustles the leaves and bends the long grasses, and with a hesitant exhale she finally speaks, “No.” she squints, her soft voice cannot manage to be sharp or cold like her mother. It doesn’t slice, but pours. “Padmé.” she tilts her head to the side, trying to get some sort of read on what he might be…
“Are you?” suddenly it seems like a good question to ask.
PADMÉ
the high black water, the devil's daughter
the high black water, the devil's daughter
@[jamie] <3