I, too, have known autumn too long (p, j)

Arye Cybelle · 05-06-2011, 09:19 PM

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♥. I put my iTunes on shuffle and this song really reminded me of this thread! "Goodbye, Apathy" by OneRepublic. WC: 620~

His response finally came. He seemed hesitant at first, as uncertain as she felt, which seemed wrong. The scent clinging to his coat, permeating from his skin, screamed the fact that he had a place where he belonged. But his presence did not speak of belonging; instead, he seemed to waver where he stood, as if even gravity couldn’t lend him any sense of substance or real idea about his overall place in the grand scheme of things. His blue eyes, so striking against the smoky slate of his pelt, flashed from disbelieving thoughtfulness to curiously full of intent.

Arye was glad that he seemed receptive to spending some time with her. She could find things to entertain her attention for small spreads of time, but it seemed that eventually her focus would be swallowed in the sea of other things. But she felt now that she had happened upon an individual who could capture her attention and hold it. She did not know much more about him than his name, and the name of his home, but there was something about him that made her pause, and made her glad that she had not retreated from him. It had not seemed natural to do so; his presence was anything but imposing. Instead, there seemed to a sort of void, from within him, or because of something he was without. It wasn’t anything that she could put her finger on, but she knew that she could share her empty hours with him.

”Arye Cybelle,” she added belatedly, providing her surname as he did. She wondered if he had any family around “Phoenix Valley,” but decided against asking. As he moved to sit beside her, she shifted a bit to give him some room. In the process of resettling along side Pripyat, her wide-splayed fingers brushed against his where they were settled in the sand. Conscious of the accidental touch, she felt warmth flood her mid-section and she felt her heart thundering hard for a moment. She was not exactly embarrassed, but she could not remember ever meeting a male around her age, and for one moment she found herself strangely out of sorts. It was not often that she did not know how to act or react. Her fingers retreated from that brief, unexpected touch. She curled them until they borrowed into the sand between Pripyat’s gapped fingers.

”I was reading,” Arye intoned, indicating with a small shift of her head the weather and age worn book resting on the sand beside her. ”Well,” she amended, “I was trying to read.” There was no shame in her voice. It was something that she had only started to think about a few months ago. And there was no reason to be embarrassed about something that she had never been taught or that she could not do. Arye was very aware of her limitations, but she could try to rectify them as such. “Can you read, Pripyat?” Arye asked curiously. His name seemed foreign to her, and she took a moment to give it the proper attention it required, forming it on her tongue with care before releasing it into the dusky-gloom of the shore.

As drops coated their pelts, Arye was not uncomfortable. "What is Phoenix Valley like?" she asked. She let her fingers relax in the sand, uncurling them. If she flexed her fingers, then the tips of their fingers would touch for a second, but that did not seem to be a bad thing all together. She peered through the gloom of the evening. ”It will be too dark to travel soon,” she premonished with some regret in her voice, but she smiled brightly at him.

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