Prompt 156: "Cold"
In the light of the open window, he could see her from the doorway. She was sitting on a window seat, face turned up and away towards the sun like a uprooted flower as inappropriately frilly folds from her nightgown draping, lop-sided, extra fabric pooling as it reached the covers. She was tawny-golden in the sunlight, her with her blond-white curls that fell in a violent mass over her shoulders, untamed and wild, and the northern transparency of skin. She had the complexion of one from the far north, with her marble-white foreignness, but her face lacked the round curves and square edges he expected from them, with an oval face, a crooked nose, small round chin.
"You're awake?"
She turned, the light casting shadows where it could no longer reach. "Yes. Thank you for your hospitality." Her voice was light, precise, accented; he couldn't place it.
"A blizzard is not really the safest place to be; I suppose others may disagree, namely the snow."
She either ignored or was confused by his dry humor. Blank-faced, she said, "No, it isn't."
"You were terribly cold when you came in," he said, giving up.
"I was out in the snow."
Watching her face, he was silent a moment. "What's wrong?"
"What?" Finally, something registered in her face. Caution, surprise...
"You're crying."
She touched her face, inhaled sharply. "Oh Lord..."
He could see the streams running down her face, her blank, unperturbed face.
"What the--"
He crossed the room quickly, then slowed abruptly as he neared her. A hand reached out, touched her face--
"You're freezing, we have to get you blankets--"
She stared at him, shook her head.
"You're melting."
"Child of snow," she said, shaking her head still, "ice-creature, frost-woman."
He stood back and stared at her, a cold figure in the stream of sunlight.
"You're awake?"
She turned, the light casting shadows where it could no longer reach. "Yes. Thank you for your hospitality." Her voice was light, precise, accented; he couldn't place it.
"A blizzard is not really the safest place to be; I suppose others may disagree, namely the snow."
She either ignored or was confused by his dry humor. Blank-faced, she said, "No, it isn't."
"You were terribly cold when you came in," he said, giving up.
"I was out in the snow."
Watching her face, he was silent a moment. "What's wrong?"
"What?" Finally, something registered in her face. Caution, surprise...
"You're crying."
She touched her face, inhaled sharply. "Oh Lord..."
He could see the streams running down her face, her blank, unperturbed face.
"What the--"
He crossed the room quickly, then slowed abruptly as he neared her. A hand reached out, touched her face--
"You're freezing, we have to get you blankets--"
She stared at him, shook her head.
"You're melting."
"Child of snow," she said, shaking her head still, "ice-creature, frost-woman."
He stood back and stared at her, a cold figure in the stream of sunlight.