M - She asked me what it was I want, I said that I

China Rose Lykoi · 02-13-2011, 05:40 AM

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Wordcount: 3+

He didn't seem particularly surprised to see her - or rather, sense her, because those thrilling bloodrose eyes had yet to glance her way. But China still experienced a fat surge of satisfaction at the way his body seemed to tense, just in the knowing that she was there. It seemed, regardless of words or thoughts, that Itachi Lykoi had not forgotten her; Or at least, his body had not.

Keen orbs, daring him to lock gazes, watched in turn each shift of his frame. It seemed that the youth grew more and more each second he was alive, as if he were sucking the life from the frigid air around him, converting it into the energy his muscles required to mature. Not yet a full adult, but more and more did the golden boy appear one, and more and more was it difficult for her to remind herself that he, and she, were not.

His voice prickled up her spine, but China remained poised. She had been ready for this. If it was his mind that had called her, then like a homing pigeon she had returned, seeking the young male and knowing what it was she would find. But he, too, was different. She could sense it in the tense electricity between them, the slight discord strung tight in an otherwise sweet harmony. He grew different to her. But it seemed that Itachi learned quickly, for he spoke again - In itself an act of progress for the near mute boy, China mused.

She took it upon herself to shorted the gap between them, strolling forward with elaborate ease, as though her lithe body experienced no tension in being near to him. "Mmmm..." Silver songbird had no doubt that he was being honest with his words, for it seemed uncharacteristic that the golden youth would lie to make such pointless smalltalk. There was significance held within each sentence, and had she more wit and patience, perhaps the girl would have unravelled their true meanings.

But she did not. Standing apart, but near to him, she took another slow drag before responding. "I am glad you are here," truth, tainted by a strange wariness that had not been present the other times they had met. Perhaps her heart had grown flighty, but more likely, her morals were strained. She moved to crouch beside his seated frame, close enough now that their shoulders might brush. She would allow him no personal space unless he specifically requested it. "What're you doing?" Cerulean hue drifted over the strange items he had - the strop of material with the strange runes painted on to it, the bowl, the dye.

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