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The loveliest faces are to be seen by moonlight.
IP: 24.18.171.195
Posted on May 19, 2010 at 08:17:20 AM by Charlotte Tweet




“Well okay then Adonis, we’ll leave it at that then.” She offered a gentle smile and shook his hand, her fingers surprisingly warm against his cold ones. Truth be told, Charlotte had yet to feel the effects of the weather, there was far too much adrenaline pumping through her veins at trying to make it here alive (hah, alive, if only) and in one piece at that. He really was too kind and, in a way, reminded the girl of her best friend Bo back home. “I like where I came from – somehow I believe you when you say I can’t go back – but I do think I’d like to talk about it from time to time. My memories are very beautiful.” She mentioned, trying to ease the darkness off of his shoulders. Her hand slipped back to her side and mechanically reached for the pack of cigarettes that she usually kept in her pocket but found nothing but more wet fabric instead. She hung her head at this, the silvery bangs sliding across her narrow countenance as she bit her lip in frustration. Damnit, she huffed inwardly. This wouldn’t go over too well.

She picked her head up again when he inquired about her dress, her hand shifted to cover up the mild tear in the slinky black fabric. She didn’t feel self-conscious about how short or small the garment was, well, not really, maybe now if only because it was torn and hanging off of her bony bird-riddled figure. “Ah, thanks but I can manage I think. It’s only a small tear – this thing won’t last a week in that wilderness I saw out there. I’ll have to find something much stronger later.” Her pale stormcloud gray eyes studied the windows at the equally gray weather outside, the expression on her face was as unreadable as the gaze she had. “I’ve lived with six other people since I was seven – most of them older than me. I was the baby until Anya came so I did a little growing up. I’m not quite sure though…how exactly I’m supposed to live now. Without the caravan…” She shrugged, reached for her cigarettes again. Again, there was that quiet snarl (more to herself than anyone else) over finding the pocket empty. Right now would be a great time to muse over a smoke…well, if she had one.

Another voice chimed in, similar but different, more quiet as it rang between her ears. Her eyes looked down and over to the wolf that now stood up between them. “Well hello there handsome.” She greeted, the bad mood lifting significantly at his bright and happy face. Charlotte smiled at Itzal and reached her hand out slowly to him. A talking animal. Well, it certainly was different she supposed. Then again, a fifteen fingered girl and a boy who could figure eight himself with himself…that kind of went in that same boat with odd and freaky things. “Well Itzal it’s nice to meet you as well. If I could be a wolf and speak as well, I would introduce myself…simply because I could.” She said, trying to stick up for Adonis as his mind drifted from the conversation. She squatted down to study his eyes – they reminded her of butterscotch, Aunt Shelley’s favorite candy used to be that.

“Adonis, Itzal…could you tell me a little more? About everything?”



Charlotte Tweet

So we did make love. Is that what you're calling it?
…this is probably just another one of those cry-for-help things.



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