With no one wearing their real face It's a whiteout of emotion
The wind that billowed his coat stung her skin like needles. Even rich velvet did little to stave off the bite, and she drew her arms around herself, rubbing palms against numbing upper arms to lend at least an illusion of warmth before that too was snatched away.
He was eloquent in his musing, the train of thought one she found familiar. Loss lived in everyone, she realized, whether it was a dead pet, a family member, a life overturned. She nodded subtly, recognizing a connection upon which a relation could be built if given half a chance - friendship, kindred spirits - and something eased in her posture. Turning back to face him fully, she no longer seemed on the verge of leaving - she even angled the horned head in his direction, mildly curious.
"Who was he? This... Rane." Dropping the name was like begging to talk about the person. It would cost her nothing to listen, if this person wished to unburden herself; it might even distract her from the chill of the night.
He was eloquent in his musing, the train of thought one she found familiar. Loss lived in everyone, she realized, whether it was a dead pet, a family member, a life overturned. She nodded subtly, recognizing a connection upon which a relation could be built if given half a chance - friendship, kindred spirits - and something eased in her posture. Turning back to face him fully, she no longer seemed on the verge of leaving - she even angled the horned head in his direction, mildly curious.
"Who was he? This... Rane." Dropping the name was like begging to talk about the person. It would cost her nothing to listen, if this person wished to unburden herself; it might even distract her from the chill of the night.
And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
Maea
