The act of raking her body over with his eyes - a touchless caress, yet still an assault - elicited the tiniest unwelcome flinch. Almost an unperceivable tick, yet she knows the minute movement will not go unnoticed as he continues his assessment of her pitiful, wasted, flesh. How many times must a women lend her body to be ogled without granting permission? He plays the part of a gentleman well, but the age old excuse of being a man to justify one's actions leaves behind a stale taste that cannot be shaken. Worst of all, the deplorable acidic erosion of shame is creeping up within her breast. She is unfortunately painfully aware of the pitiful image that she paints - a skeleton draped in a marvelous shroud, yet still nothing more than an empty shell of bones and ever expanding emptiness. She huffs softly, a gentle plea to call his groping eyes away from her decrepit form to once again meet her gaze. She would much rather be more domineering in this gesture, yet she knows she would not withstand an assault if her were driven to malice. She does not know this stranger of dusted gold and ravenous gaze and she certainly is not decided if she should. Now she becomes the observer, watching the musculature expand as he tucked nose to chest, seemingly lost in his own swirling thoughts. What does he have to wonder about - he has taken in everything with the confine of his gaze. Perhaps his thoughts are justified and his intrigue is righteous, for she is a creature mired within the grasp of a past that was all consuming. Yet she is here, far away from the shadows and the monsters that led into the hellfire of destruction. Perhaps she has already found what is worthwhile; the promise of a new beginning. Even that possibility is a bittersweet treat dangled just out of reach. How can one begin again, when they do not know the path back into the light of the living.
His assumption is correct - even she does not know what justifies an answer to her longing. For too long she placed stock in emotions and the actions of others. She sought out affection, achieved intimacy, but what was the cost? Only my soul.
His not-quite word brought her out of a quickly darkening reverie, grounding her firmly in the present happenings once more. With a flick of his tail, his mouth opens, and almost the equivalent of scouring water pours out. She closes her eyes tightly while his words wash over her, begging her self pity to retreat and attempting to summon some false pretense of bravery. The second onslaught of words is more terrifying than the first, for she has been alone for more moons than she could count. Amber eyes pop open and tiny black-tipped ears pin back to her head as she quickly bounces between the possibilities that her reaction could elicit. Will he touch me? Will he simply leave me here? Will I die alone? She commands her ears forward, petrified that she may be perceived as threatening (who is she kidding, though, with every bone on display). She once more raises her gaze to his, her eyes giving away her slight anger as they narrow and deliver a smoldering look that could cut to the bone. "I have spent countless hours waiting, and they all failed me - I am acutely aware of the life I have wasted." She falters, feeling guilty for returning his bluntness, but chooses to continue - there is no longer space for the meek and docile girl she once was. "Fighting never gained me any ground either, but I suppose that can be attributed to my own failings in that capacity." Her voice, smooth and soft as a summer breeze, trails off at the end. No, fighting only brought pain. As he turns away, she finds that her traitorous heart lurching into her throat in unexpected anxiousness. The overwhelming thought of once again being left to her own devices is enough to compel her forward automatically and without her consensus. The velvet-soft skin of her muzzle touches his shoulder before she realized her grievance. Instantly she recoils, breath slightly labored, shocked at herself and the audacity that she apparently has today. How many times can you betray yourself? Now her gaze wavers, falls, finding the smallest of animal prints to focus on within the snow drift rather than to see the repulsion in his own eyes. "Forgive me...but please do not go. The last five words are spoken as a whisper, a plea of desperation that she cannot squelch. Now she stands completely still, the image of stunned and forlorn silence, too scared to step further away as he may decide to take his leave.Damn you for always being so weak..
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