at the violet hour, when the eyes and back

Max Klein · 08-07-2012, 09:07 AM

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Summer did not favor Max Klein. He was an obvious target from a mile away, glistening white and pristine even when his pelt was thick with dust and grime. The armor and cloak helped some, but within his own lands he did not feel the need to wear either. His wounds had begun to heal and pulled irritably as the skin knit, finally passing the bruised, scabbed point and mellowing into tight, pinkish-gray scars. While white, he was not cursed with albinism or light skin—in fact, aside from his tongue, one would be hard pressed to find pink skin under his fur.

At night his scars gleamed and formed constellations and patterns all their own. He had taken to comparing them, and then been surprised to see a star fall. This odd event captured him and so, for the past half-hour, he had been on his back, arms bent comfortably under his head, and watched. There had been two others so far, but he was almost positive that there would be more. At least, he hoped this was the case.

A noise from behind caused him to sit up abruptly, hair scruffed up and ears high. While his brows knit together, as if furiously seeking the intruder, his whole body eased when his sun-colored eyes graced across the dark shadow approaching. Where he gleamed like a moonbeam, she was no more than a whisper of a shade eve in this starlight. Max sighed and dropped down to his elbows, blowing his hair out of his face with a breath. It had been cut recently and was shaggy, showing his impatience for the ordeal. Given that Remy had to do it with a knife hardly helped at all, but Max didn’t mind. “You sneak up on people a lot, Sep?”

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