bare the marks
it was almost like he could still smell her, the honeysuckle, the bluebells in the herb mixes she used to lay out in sun every morning like it was part of her routine. he'd say like because it wasn't that she did it absolutely every morning, but just often enough that he would comment on it whenever she did it. encourage it, so that he could show her that he did pay attention. that his mind was at home when he was actually home, still not locked into some glossy eyed state where it looked like the smoke had gotten to his eyes. she'd ask if he was okay, he'd tell her yes, it was routine at that point. not anymore, and the idea that it was woke him. digits flexed, there is cold in his bones. the way it makes his limbs ache, as he feels the mid-day breeze agaisnt the curve of his spine. coal black hair dusted with something new, age, sheets of it had been tossed in the night and it almost dared to hide away his home under an uprooted pine. an hesitant grunt, as if he, a young teenager who had grown to hate the sun. petty movement brings him to rise, to the sun that scatters his eyes. reflective, pale, moments pass before he is adjusted and looking in before the heaven high trees and he is simply stood there. waiting, watching.
The air seemed to grow colder the further into the territory Issy wandered. She fluffed up her coat, doing what she could to conserve her body heat as she looked around the unfamiliar place. Would her brother have liked this place? He was always curious about different landscapes… A small smile touched her lips, and the French girl clucked her tongue. “Well, one way to find out, non?” She’d just have to find Aldric and drag his colorful butt back here! She paused, one paw mid-stride as she looked around. She could help but shake the feeling she wasn’t alone out here, as she might have originally thought.
Issy narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and set her paw down. Thus far she’d been trying her hardest merely to speak common to these strangers… no one had noticed her accent, more subtle than her brother’s own, but it was getting harder for her to concentrate on those weird words. French came much easier… and she muttered to herself in her mother language as she perked her ears, twitching them this way and that as her orange eyes scanned for the signs of the slightest movement.
imagination, it awaits him in his silences. the tree limbs that live, that crawl, distinct in their movement that ripple up the snow as if some horror show he would have seen as a teen. idealistic, lackluster, his lips press together in their cracked combination to rub and drag with one another. smallest of the saliva that drives in his jaw to a grind as he finds her, an eyesore agaisnt the cold sheets. a traveler, constantly on the move, a merchant, gathering her ground and those around her. that was, until he noticed she was speaking to himself and his ears are caught backward. wild-displaced, crazy. viral, his jaw parts and he moves forward. digits extended, how the snow clings to the hair between pads as if creatures to a whales back. independent, but followed, careful, cautious, his tail is curled along his spine and for he is fevered in the way his breath fumes in the air. "you talking to someone?"
Isabella canted her head to the side, grinning mischievously at his approach. He heard her speak, had he? Well there was no disguising whom she was now. She would lay it before him, her sweet, silky French voice mingling with her understanding of the common tongue. “Oui Monsieur, I suppose I was in a way. To myself, or to my brother, one can not say…” She trailed off, her orange orbs burning as they looked upon his figure. He is older than she was, but that was not necessarily a turn off. No… it had her more curious… for age could mean experience… something she might lack.
“It is rather lonely up here, non? Perhaps you’d care for a bit of company for a time?” She arched a brow, words suggestive as she breathes them out into the cool air. Her body tingles, waiting for the response of the male. No matter where the meeting goes from here on, Issy is certain she will have no regrets.