It was in a rather irritated mood that Maia wandered through Espoir, scrolling through the contacts on her Dreamberry. As she walked that she picked up a scent-- a very non-human, very Downworlder scent-- that caused her to stop walking in surprise, lowering her Dreamberry to pinpoint the source. It was not difficult: the young man sat on a wall not far from her, and she could detect signs of a glamour.
"...Faery," Maia said without thinking. As much as she didn't much like the Seelie, she'd always been a little fascinated. Unaware she was staring, Maia tilted her head, trying to see past the glamour he wore.
Maia stepped back on her right foot as he shed his human appearance, allowing her to see fully what had been flickering in her vision. "The wings are new," she murmured. His pale, angular face and the wild, inhuman beauty she knew, but she had never seen a faery with scarred skin. She was surprised to find it was not merely part of his glamour.
"How did you get your scar?" she asked. She assumed that if he did not hide it he was not ashamed of it, but Maia's assumptions weren't always very accurate. Again she rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the ribbed skin of the scar that began at the nape, where Jordan's teeth had torn open her skin. She was not ashamed of her scars-- they reminded her of valuable lessons-- but others in her pack preferred to hide and forget where they had been bitten.
Niall stepped forward when she stepped back, and then he stepped forward again to invade her personal space. He slowly walked a few steps to the side so that she was between him and the wall of the cottage. "It's a reminder of mistakes long past," he answered vaguely, smiling to keep the mood light.
If only he had been more aware all those centuries past, more observant, less trusting, less enamored with Irial... but those were thoughts for another time. His focus was on Maia. He couldn't see her scar, and so couldn't turn the question back around. But he did find her interest in it, of all his features, curious.
"Do you like it?" he asked, moving just a little closer. Niall thought about telling her of all the other scars, long and deep and just as jagged, covering his entire body. He didn't. Maybe another time.
Niall had voiced precisely what Maia thought of her own scars, and-- despite the nature of the subject-- she couldn't help but allow wry amusement to tug the corners of her lips upward. It was an answer she herself had used before (though not quite as "long past"), and she could be satisfied with it despite its vagueness for the moment.
She hardly noticed his drawing closer until she put a hand behind herself and felt the cottage wall, Niall just in front of her, very much within the realm of her personal space bubble. She was seized with a sudden, curious desire to touch his skin, wondering what made it glow from within as it did, if it felt warm or cool. Though she started to lift a hand, she paused, not quite touching his arm.
She did like the scar, disfiguring as it was to his face; in fact, that was part of why she liked it. Maia didn't trust beautiful boys with beautiful faces. "I like it," she told him. "Scars come with stories-- reminders and lessons, as you said. Strange to say that scars are likable things, but... there's
( ... )
"There's not. Literally and metaphorically a healed over wound, hmn?" Niall reached up slowly, giving her time to pull away as she wished as he went for a strand of her dark hair and curled it around one of his fingers, feeling the texture between forefinger and thumb.
Maia's didn't pull away, her eyes flickering to the hand playing with her hair before she lifted a hand to the neckline of her shirt. She tugged it sideways, exposing what she could of her own jagged scar where it extended along her shoulder.
"A few, but not so bad," she said, "especially since things got better for me after acquiring them." She was probably one of the few people who could claim that her life had gotten better after being infected with lycanthropy.
"Did they?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. Niall looked the scar over curiously, finding it more interesting than anything else. He tried to imagine what could make such a scar and found it difficult to. As for her answer, it was most puzzling. Niall couldn't help asking himself if his life had gotten better after his own, and he would have to say yes they did. Such thoughts were kept to himself.
She could see the curiosity on Niall's face as he inspected her scar, and she dropped her hand from her collar, shivering as she remembered the feel of Jordan's teeth ripping into her flesh. She grinned at his statement, however. "He did do a beautiful job on it, didn't he," she murmured, half to herself. "I was only half-surprised when I made the change that month."
Looking up, reflective eyes met reflective eyes. For a brief moment Maia let herself shift, as though returning the favour of being allowed to see Niall's true form: her face elongated, ears pointed, teeth sharpened and thinned to needles. She didn't hold her half-human face for very long-- usually she only reverted to it when she was angry or scared, and it wasn't generally a one pleasing to the eye.
Niall watched, soon smiling as eyes so similar to his own shown back. His gaze dropped to her teeth in particular and his own smile widened. As she transformed back, he was bold enough to reach up and trail his fingertips along the edge of one disappearing lupine ear.
"Now I understand," he said once she was back to her human guise. To put them on more even ground, Niall shifted back to his Glamor as well, his eyes dulling to dark brown and wings disappearing altogether, his skin losing all luminosity. "Thank you for sharing that with me."
"It was only fair," Maia said, shrugging, but she was pleased with his reaction; werewolves were not often greeted with smiles outside their own packs, let alone species. His fingertips against her ear tickled, an odd but not unpleasant sensation as it shrank and rounded once again. As he resumed his own human appearance, she took her cue from him and lightly touched the hand he had extended to her ear, wondering if the feel of his skin would change with look.
"Have I even given you my name?" Maia asked abruptly, realising for the first time that she didn't know his. She almost laughed, that she had revealed to him what she was even before introducing herself. "I'm Maia."
"Maia," he repeated, sliding his fingers along hers when she touched his hand. Niall moved his hand up again and cupped her cheek, fingers touching the human ear now.
"My name is Niall. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone what I am; I'll return the courtesy of course."
"...Faery," Maia said without thinking. As much as she didn't much like the Seelie, she'd always been a little fascinated. Unaware she was staring, Maia tilted her head, trying to see past the glamour he wore.
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"How did you get your scar?" she asked. She assumed that if he did not hide it he was not ashamed of it, but Maia's assumptions weren't always very accurate. Again she rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the ribbed skin of the scar that began at the nape, where Jordan's teeth had torn open her skin. She was not ashamed of her scars-- they reminded her of valuable lessons-- but others in her pack preferred to hide and forget where they had been bitten.
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If only he had been more aware all those centuries past, more observant, less trusting, less enamored with Irial... but those were thoughts for another time. His focus was on Maia. He couldn't see her scar, and so couldn't turn the question back around. But he did find her interest in it, of all his features, curious.
"Do you like it?" he asked, moving just a little closer. Niall thought about telling her of all the other scars, long and deep and just as jagged, covering his entire body. He didn't. Maybe another time.
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She hardly noticed his drawing closer until she put a hand behind herself and felt the cottage wall, Niall just in front of her, very much within the realm of her personal space bubble. She was seized with a sudden, curious desire to touch his skin, wondering what made it glow from within as it did, if it felt warm or cool. Though she started to lift a hand, she paused, not quite touching his arm.
She did like the scar, disfiguring as it was to his face; in fact, that was part of why she liked it. Maia didn't trust beautiful boys with beautiful faces. "I like it," she told him. "Scars come with stories-- reminders and lessons, as you said. Strange to say that scars are likable things, but... there's ( ... )
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"You sound as if you have some of your own."
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"A few, but not so bad," she said, "especially since things got better for me after acquiring them." She was probably one of the few people who could claim that her life had gotten better after being infected with lycanthropy.
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"Then I like yours as well."
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Looking up, reflective eyes met reflective eyes. For a brief moment Maia let herself shift, as though returning the favour of being allowed to see Niall's true form: her face elongated, ears pointed, teeth sharpened and thinned to needles. She didn't hold her half-human face for very long-- usually she only reverted to it when she was angry or scared, and it wasn't generally a one pleasing to the eye.
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"Now I understand," he said once she was back to her human guise. To put them on more even ground, Niall shifted back to his Glamor as well, his eyes dulling to dark brown and wings disappearing altogether, his skin losing all luminosity. "Thank you for sharing that with me."
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"Have I even given you my name?" Maia asked abruptly, realising for the first time that she didn't know his. She almost laughed, that she had revealed to him what she was even before introducing herself. "I'm Maia."
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"My name is Niall. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone what I am; I'll return the courtesy of course."
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