(Untitled)

[an_evening_star]

It had taken a while - and a good deal of cursing to herself - to maneuver the sleeping boy from on top of her, fingers curling sleepily at her waist, and into a far more respectable position without waking him. She did, however, allow his head to remain resting in her lap, her own fingers carding lightly through his hair as she watches him sleep

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[nosequels]

"There is something of the dormouse in him still," she says softly, tucking a loose lock of dark hair behind her ear, revealing a pointed ear, fuzzy and catlike.

"Sometimes I wonder if she transforms people into animals, or whether she finds the beast inside us, and frees it." Slowly, she crouches beside the star.

"Perhaps there is something about me that is, by nature, a brightly coloured bird," she muses. "It is something to which I have given much thought, but about which I have come to no conclusions."

[an_evening_star]

Yvaine tilts her head once more, blinking back at the other woman a bit warily - the familiarity with which she speaks is vaguely off putting and, truthfully, the star is not one of the most social of creatures to begin with.

Her mouth opens cautiously and then closes once more as Tristran stirs slightly, mumbling something unintelligible into the material of her skirts. The smile flickers up helplessly when he turns and begins to snore lightly.

Utterly ridiculous.

[nosequels]

"He seems goodhearted," the woman goes on, shifting a little closer towards the sleeping boy.

She knows who he is, of course, even if he doesn't recognize her. She could never forget those eyes or that smile. She remembers it from the day he was born.

[an_evening_star]

It takes an almost disconcerting amount of effort to resist the urge to tug him closer and merely curls a protective hand into the material of one of his coat sleeves.

The woman doesn't seem particularly dangerous to her - but that's never been an accurate sort of assessment before either.

"Yes," she admits quietly. "I suppose that he is."