girls can be dangerous and still win
The way he wanted to linger instead made her heart sway, the devilish decree and degree to her grin turning into something warm rather than menacing or demonic. “Yes, please,” instead of picturing the inevitable parting, her imagination ran rampant with the thoughts of ridiculous games and schemes with him again, mind already broadening to scavenger hunts and eye spy pursuits while the rest of her soul gleamed from the excitement.
Ducking her head down, figuring they’d be packing up and she should move to take care of their garbage, she hardly noticed him rummaging through his packs until there was a figurine in front of her. She recognized it instantly – as it was one of her favored possessions, in miniature form – and her jaw dropped, before she glanced back up at Iskra in the same bewildered benediction, her own adoration peeking through the surprise. “Wha -,” and then she was clutching it, turning it back and rotating it around as if inspecting, even if she already knew the answer. Of course he would’ve made a striking replica, taken the time to ensure each and every bit had been memorized and rendered complete.
Clutching it to her chest, she granted a low whisper, just for him. “It’s perfect. Thank you,” and if a tear appeared in the corner of her eyes, so be it. Even as he continued, gone were the eaves of competition and purposeful provocation; drinking in the sight of him and all these ideas that seemed so genuine and real and wholesome that she had to swallow something down. “Well, that’s brilliant,” she laughed, already wondering if it’d be able to bypass her invisibility tricks on days where she wanted to surprise, or if she’d have to become wilier. She would’ve reached for him then, hands full of ship and heart full of adoration, if it hadn’t been for the sudden story cropping up.
Delighted beyond measure, she shook her head, leaning forward with the ship still in her hands and towards the eerie, ghoulish ornamentation again. “Oh I’m being spoiled today. Go on.”
Ducking her head down, figuring they’d be packing up and she should move to take care of their garbage, she hardly noticed him rummaging through his packs until there was a figurine in front of her. She recognized it instantly – as it was one of her favored possessions, in miniature form – and her jaw dropped, before she glanced back up at Iskra in the same bewildered benediction, her own adoration peeking through the surprise. “Wha -,” and then she was clutching it, turning it back and rotating it around as if inspecting, even if she already knew the answer. Of course he would’ve made a striking replica, taken the time to ensure each and every bit had been memorized and rendered complete.
Clutching it to her chest, she granted a low whisper, just for him. “It’s perfect. Thank you,” and if a tear appeared in the corner of her eyes, so be it. Even as he continued, gone were the eaves of competition and purposeful provocation; drinking in the sight of him and all these ideas that seemed so genuine and real and wholesome that she had to swallow something down. “Well, that’s brilliant,” she laughed, already wondering if it’d be able to bypass her invisibility tricks on days where she wanted to surprise, or if she’d have to become wilier. She would’ve reached for him then, hands full of ship and heart full of adoration, if it hadn’t been for the sudden story cropping up.
Delighted beyond measure, she shook her head, leaning forward with the ship still in her hands and towards the eerie, ghoulish ornamentation again. “Oh I’m being spoiled today. Go on.”
Melita
she knew exactly what she was doing when she invited the wild in
