I. She stares at you while you fuss with your rubix cube and you try to ignore her, turning each piece again and again. You aren’t even really trying to solve it. You just like the colors and kinetic motion of it, the clacking where the plastic rubs together. But she just keeps staring, her grey eyes intent and you can see the flecks of her green starting to show through.
She makes you uncomfortable, with her jade blood. You want to split her open and pour her all out, collect her in little bowls and keep her close. She reminds you of dead, stuttering friends which reminds you of softer things, kindness and a wide sharp smile, bodies made of angles. You do not say this, nor hint, but you do give her the cube and ask her for help just so she has something to do that isn’t watching you.
She solves it in this beautiful flash of color and hands and noise and when she sets it in your lap, it’s too neat, too organized, the lovely chaos of it gone, but now it’s your turn to watch, something like admiration opening up in your chest.
II. There is the wind and the sand and the high broken pillar with the symbols in it. You think it’s a map. You’re sure it’s a map, really, but you couldn’t make it out with all the dirt in the air. Instead, you pull your biggest scarf over your head and try to huddle in on yourself, watching for monsters.
She waves you to her eventually and over the windy roar, she stutters for you to get out the other pieces of the pillar that you’ve found. You pull them from your sylladex, holding them carefully in place where you think they belong, but she shuffles them around, makes you dance around her until the lines in front of you seem almost coherent. She pulls a pen from her pocket, takes your hand and draws the map to your seventh quest on your palm.
You try to ignore the way your skin prickles in the gritty air.
III. For fun, you tell her you like to do the dishes all in one go, balancing them all in the tiny space next to the sink. It’s a lie, but the way her eyes light up when such a simple task becomes something to solve and sort out and learn makes your breath catch for a second. You wish it was true now, honestly, that such a task could even be accomplished. You imagine there is no solution, but you’ll let her try anyway.
So you wash and you watch her judging things, space and the number of the dishes, the size and shape of them, eyeing the misshapen pans near the end of the line. You’re charmed, smiling to yourself as you roll your sleeves up and scrub.
When it’s over and she’s fit everything all in one place, dishes stacked so high she could barely reach the top of the pillars, you are rather more impressed then you think reasonable and her triumphant grin makes you giggle in genuine happiness for once.
IV. You brush your mouth against hers because you know that’s how it’s supposed to start. Afterwards, you both stare at each other in confused silence, unsure how to continue. She runs her eyes over you and you can see her solving things in her head, putting puzzle pieces together so they make a shape that makes sense to her.
She pushes you back and crawls into your lap, your hands drawn to her waist and her fingers curling through your hair, over your horns. Like this I think… good yes yes yes!, and she kisses you properly, close, and you make this tiny nervous sound when her tongue flicks your lip. Because it feels good. Because she’s lovely and reminds you of puzzles and solutions, forward motion, as she drags her fingers against your scalp, grips the back of your neck and deepens.
Kal<3??Avispa
She stares at you while you fuss with your rubix cube and you try to ignore her, turning each piece again and again. You aren’t even really trying to solve it. You just like the colors and kinetic motion of it, the clacking where the plastic rubs together. But she just keeps staring, her grey eyes intent and you can see the flecks of her green starting to show through.
She makes you uncomfortable, with her jade blood. You want to split her open and pour her all out, collect her in little bowls and keep her close. She reminds you of dead, stuttering friends which reminds you of softer things, kindness and a wide sharp smile, bodies made of angles. You do not say this, nor hint, but you do give her the cube and ask her for help just so she has something to do that isn’t watching you.
She solves it in this beautiful flash of color and hands and noise and when she sets it in your lap, it’s too neat, too organized, the lovely chaos of it gone, but now it’s your turn to watch, something like admiration opening up in your chest.
II.
There is the wind and the sand and the high broken pillar with the symbols in it. You think it’s a map. You’re sure it’s a map, really, but you couldn’t make it out with all the dirt in the air. Instead, you pull your biggest scarf over your head and try to huddle in on yourself, watching for monsters.
She waves you to her eventually and over the windy roar, she stutters for you to get out the other pieces of the pillar that you’ve found. You pull them from your sylladex, holding them carefully in place where you think they belong, but she shuffles them around, makes you dance around her until the lines in front of you seem almost coherent. She pulls a pen from her pocket, takes your hand and draws the map to your seventh quest on your palm.
You try to ignore the way your skin prickles in the gritty air.
III.
For fun, you tell her you like to do the dishes all in one go, balancing them all in the tiny space next to the sink. It’s a lie, but the way her eyes light up when such a simple task becomes something to solve and sort out and learn makes your breath catch for a second. You wish it was true now, honestly, that such a task could even be accomplished. You imagine there is no solution, but you’ll let her try anyway.
So you wash and you watch her judging things, space and the number of the dishes, the size and shape of them, eyeing the misshapen pans near the end of the line. You’re charmed, smiling to yourself as you roll your sleeves up and scrub.
When it’s over and she’s fit everything all in one place, dishes stacked so high she could barely reach the top of the pillars, you are rather more impressed then you think reasonable and her triumphant grin makes you giggle in genuine happiness for once.
IV.
You brush your mouth against hers because you know that’s how it’s supposed to start. Afterwards, you both stare at each other in confused silence, unsure how to continue. She runs her eyes over you and you can see her solving things in her head, putting puzzle pieces together so they make a shape that makes sense to her.
She pushes you back and crawls into your lap, your hands drawn to her waist and her fingers curling through your hair, over your horns. Like this I think… good yes yes yes!, and she kisses you properly, close, and you make this tiny nervous sound when her tongue flicks your lip. Because it feels good. Because she’s lovely and reminds you of puzzles and solutions, forward motion, as she drags her fingers against your scalp, grips the back of your neck and deepens.
wheezes idek...