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‘Don’t look so disappointed, sweetheart—I’m sure you’ll throw yourself at me again.'
It is halfheartedly that you roll your eyes in a backwards glance towards the man, a feigned annoyance bleeding through. You cannot deny the surge of heat the words bring, your rapidly changing body and mind all too suddenly keen for the attention of men, nor the flash of embarrassment that warms your cheeks. There is always a time and place for everything, and here and now, this is not it, and so you give no further invitation. The woman before the two of you seems less than interested in what your sandstone man has to say, his jests falling on deaf ears, or on a woman who has heard it all before and cares not for the parading of young men like peacocks. You suppose cannot blame her for that, remembering how the attentions of the opposite sex used to make you gag. Her stare still unsettles you despite it being directed at Rohan, and something like defiance rises in your heart, despite the fact that he is more than capable of defending himself.
You shift next to him, nodding as she thanks you, unsure of the chill that leaves her in waves, caught in between trying to accommodate her and worrying for the feelings of your friend. Hope rises within your chest as she asks for a place to rest, both for the opportunity to drag her attention from him and the chance to fulfill the reason you came here in the first place: to offer the homeless a home. Your lips open, though her words speak over the squeak that emits, ears flicking back as she addresses Rohan yet again. You supposed he had asked for her distaste for him, asked for the sharp words and bitter stares, and you fight back your desire to defend him, sure that neither party would appreciate your (in your opinion) precarious position, your want to make both of them comfortable. “Well,” You begin again, your gaze briefly flickering to Rohan for a shred of confidence, a silent apology for both her sharpness and your lack of doing, well, anything, before turning back to the sky woman. “I can take you North to my home in the shadow of a mountain, the Aurora Basin. There are caves that keep us warm from the worst of the winter, and natural hot springs that can soothe aches, and provide a safe way to bathe in the chill.”
A certain pride is brandished within the words describing your home, though no description could ever truly benefit its beauty, the rugged perseverance of both the land and its inhabitants. “Which, it seems like you could use, Rohan.” You tilt your head in his direction, your Madonna smile growing with a certain deviousness as your eyebrow raises. You cannot remember if he had been part of one of the herds, but you figure it cannot hurt to offer him to tag along, even if he had no intentions of actually joining. With a slight shrug, you turn back to the woman, all sincerity and hopefulness.
“That is, if neither of you mind a bit more of a walk?” |
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