Sometimes...
Sometimes, the words flow with ease, like water over smooth stone.
The wind dances across the still leaves, tickling them into motion. Silent, forgotten, the ruins stand against the gale. Each moment that follows the sky beyond lightens from fog to gray, to pale blue, as the sun peeks over the horizon. A hesitant visitor moves along the shore. Her hair upswept and held in place by a carefully placed pin.
She’s pale, like the morning sky, white and stunning red, the hair piled on her head like vermilion the kind found in a bottle and not in nature, except for in the most beautiful of birds. She's exotic he supposes a pop of wild, turbulent color in the calm of the early morning. She doesn't see him, her gaze fixed firmly on the waters far edge.
“The world ends out there,” she says, her voice carries easily over the soft lapping of the tide.
She turns, and for a moment, he is caught. Her gaze is a pale green he can't recall seeing outside of fluorite, and her lashes, dark brown and thick, sweep down as she blinks, and glances away. There is no guile in her action, but it intrigues him anyway, a certain amount of curiosity is to be expected, when he knows he made no sound and yet still she sensed his presence.
Her words echoed across the edges of his mind, sweeping him nearer against his own will.
The wind dances across the still leaves, tickling them into motion. Silent, forgotten, the ruins stand against the gale. Each moment that follows the sky beyond lightens from fog to gray, to pale blue, as the sun peeks over the horizon. A hesitant visitor moves along the shore. Her hair upswept and held in place by a carefully placed pin.
She’s pale, like the morning sky, white and stunning red, the hair piled on her head like vermilion the kind found in a bottle and not in nature, except for in the most beautiful of birds. She's exotic he supposes a pop of wild, turbulent color in the calm of the early morning. She doesn't see him, her gaze fixed firmly on the waters far edge.
“The world ends out there,” she says, her voice carries easily over the soft lapping of the tide.
She turns, and for a moment, he is caught. Her gaze is a pale green he can't recall seeing outside of fluorite, and her lashes, dark brown and thick, sweep down as she blinks, and glances away. There is no guile in her action, but it intrigues him anyway, a certain amount of curiosity is to be expected, when he knows he made no sound and yet still she sensed his presence.
Her words echoed across the edges of his mind, sweeping him nearer against his own will.