There is mischief in him, something that Eden herself was no stranger to. If she was not so guarded here, there would be a reflection in her own. No. She would not let the mask slip, she wouldn’t drop it these days. Danger. She knew the danger better than anyone. Eden was not afraid to fight, and never would be. It is thick and hot in her blood that she should fight. Maybe one day it would even be her end, and even that would be an honor.
Perspective the word plays in her mind. She nods once, cooly. Eden trusts in herself above all. She’d been raised, of course, in such a way that she’d never trust anyone… especially a man. She’d never had one around to trust. Her father having left before Eden was able to form a memory of him. Her mother’s father, much the same. There was a strangeness to their lineage. Maybe it was just a hereditary taste in poorly suited men, in reality. Not that it mattered to Eden.
He speaks once more, explains himself. She considers for a long moment. ”There is little to fear when you can trust yourself.” Eden may one day be her own downfall, but it didn’t matter. There is confidence in her, maybe even dangerously so. Her champagne pelt was not bereft of scars, and she bares the mark of many a spar and scrape. Some had healed longer than others, but it adds dimension to the woman. “There is no greater risk than making that choice, and being held as a captive for it.” Eden pauses, eyes returning to Solomon’s face. “It’s for that reason, I prefer to take my chances.” It’s as if she’s trying to see through him, see what there is underneath the man.
Had she been here long? Eden wouldn’t test his name on her tongue, no, but commit to her memory just the same. She sighs softly, thinking back to when she’d washed up on these shores. “It was in the first days of winter when I arrived.” Not long, but not… not a small length of time either. Eden had spent all of it on her own. Having company was even stranger now. “Which of the islands is your home?” She would assume, after all, that it was not the Crossing. Her mother had told her of the strangeness of the islands, their isolated biomes. At least Eden could further her knowledge, here, with Solomon.
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