[ what a group they must make, on second thought, dragging their cloud of misery around with them. still, the first iteration of her smile is as weak as a middling illusion — easily dispelled, easily seen through. astarion's defenses may lie with charm, but she's not immune to presenting a front, herself. her sharran brethren, as she recalls them, have always shared the deadly appetites of wolves; one scent of weakness in the air is as tempting as a copper trail of blood, a reason to sink teeth into a vulnerable underbelly once it's exposed. only strength has ever deterred them from tearing into the throats of their own pack.
that self-preserving appearance is so habitual she doesn't quite realize she's fallen into an old trap, as she comes to a slow seat beside him. a respectable distance remains wedged between them — not so wide a chasm that it's impossible to bridge, but not so close as to be certain over whether she should heed her compulsion to close it.
(as with most skittish creatures, she considers the benefit of allowing him to come to her, instead, and rights herself into a more relaxed posture: a recline into soft grass, laying within the sun's caress, as her fingers interlace across her stomach. distance or closeness, he is right — better miserable together, than to be left miserable alone. the company is a balm to the ache that sits inside of her, most days.)
then, almost as though it's an idle observation than one of her astute ones: ] You seem struck by nerves.
[ the second iteration of her smile might be genuine, but perhaps worse, for how its breezy teasing comes at his expense. the energy radiating from him makes him look the part of a novice, in fact, at courting — though she supposes a dependence upon his pretty face had done well to serve him on its own, up until this point. up until her, especially. her booted foot wiggles out, knocks gently into his calf, as her cheek tilts into the greenery to cast a sideways look at him. ]
I can't fathom why. Of the two of us, I'm not the one with a reputation for my bite.
no subject
[ what a group they must make, on second thought, dragging their cloud of misery around with them. still, the first iteration of her smile is as weak as a middling illusion — easily dispelled, easily seen through. astarion's defenses may lie with charm, but she's not immune to presenting a front, herself. her sharran brethren, as she recalls them, have always shared the deadly appetites of wolves; one scent of weakness in the air is as tempting as a copper trail of blood, a reason to sink teeth into a vulnerable underbelly once it's exposed. only strength has ever deterred them from tearing into the throats of their own pack.
that self-preserving appearance is so habitual she doesn't quite realize she's fallen into an old trap, as she comes to a slow seat beside him. a respectable distance remains wedged between them — not so wide a chasm that it's impossible to bridge, but not so close as to be certain over whether she should heed her compulsion to close it.
(as with most skittish creatures, she considers the benefit of allowing him to come to her, instead, and rights herself into a more relaxed posture: a recline into soft grass, laying within the sun's caress, as her fingers interlace across her stomach. distance or closeness, he is right — better miserable together, than to be left miserable alone. the company is a balm to the ache that sits inside of her, most days.)
then, almost as though it's an idle observation than one of her astute ones: ] You seem struck by nerves.
[ the second iteration of her smile might be genuine, but perhaps worse, for how its breezy teasing comes at his expense. the energy radiating from him makes him look the part of a novice, in fact, at courting — though she supposes a dependence upon his pretty face had done well to serve him on its own, up until this point. up until her, especially. her booted foot wiggles out, knocks gently into his calf, as her cheek tilts into the greenery to cast a sideways look at him. ]
I can't fathom why. Of the two of us, I'm not the one with a reputation for my bite.