Off the Beaten Path

Off the Beaten Path

Postby Rance » Sun Aug 24, 2014 4:08 pm

She could feel him because of the black oil.

It tugged her with a heartbeat palpitation on the inside her gums, throbbed against the broken shard of a yellowed molar like a prisoner desperate to break itself from rattling bonds. She skirted her way off the main path between Myrkentown and the Broken Dagger, her feet tangling amid her woolen skirts like clumsy pegs. She felt him, for feel was the only word that fit -- a sense, an instinct, as if every one of her wandering thoughts had been whittled into a new shape that pointed her toward the addled man.

Afternoon light cast a late-summer veil through the canopy, speckling the wooded copse with little patches of day. With the Glass Sun behind them, the leaves glowed a burning, brilliant green. She tugged her hem through the thickets as their arms reached out to touch her and caress the stinking fabric.

She saw him there, frozen in a frolic, his platinum hair a beacon, the scar split across his scalp warm, pink, and visible. He was a statue hidden away in the meadows and trees, and drawn to him, Gloria Wynsee stood at the edge of the clearing with her ragged skirts snared in her only fist. "Catch," she said, a soft greeting, fearful of having interrupted him. "I didn't know you'd -- you'd be out here."

And then, to ease whatever disturbance he might find at the intrusion, an offer of play--

"Do you want me to try to chase you?"
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Rance
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