At her touch you press closer, skin rippling with her breath in a familiar rush of excitement. It is the only outward sign that betrays the skip of your heart, the swirl of dizziness in your head. If only for Cin’s sake you have shied from all of the things she makes you feel, from the comfort of feeling her close, knowing of all of the things that the two of you have shared, all the things that you have done—would always do—for her, carved away at all of the nuances of affection that you had become so accustomed to, if only for him, the fragile heart blazing within his chest.

Somewhere within the labyrinth of your own heart there is a familiar pang maybe of guilt, of fear, perhaps of loss—no matter the word, the notion, it never seems to hold a candle to the way that the feeling echoes so terribly empty. Anger sparks, extinguishing your moment of reflection, his low growl pulling you from the silence of your mind. You blink, ears pinning as again his aggression is pinned to the dark girl at your side. It is enough to catch him with a backwards glance, a silent plea, his feathers ruffling as he settles once more, turning pointedly away from the little mare.

It is not long until the three of you become four, the strange man waltzing boldly towards your little group as if he belongs—it is this brazen characteristic that, as you smile, pulls your lips a little thinner than normal, tenses the muscles beneath your ivory skin, sparks suspicion within your fledgling heart as he speaks, your eyes narrowing nearly imperceptibly. If you had been taught to hate those for the way that they had been born too, the lesson was lost on you, as it is not the spire atop his crown that makes you weary, but the secrets that that smile could keep.

Even as Mo shifts closer you do not feel any safer, her words plucked from those that sit on your own tongue (how did you find us so soon), only less accusing, more disarming as she proceeds to laugh. From his little perch on your little shoulder the phoenix warbles his contentment with the stranger and his thoughtful ways, seeking perhaps to lessen the distrust blooming so rapidly in your chest. Beneath his concern you can feel the humor bubble as he plays gently with loose strands of hair, feel as your skin begins to turn hot at his perceived ridicule of your unfounded worry as you had been so quick to laugh at his. All the while, still you are silent, eyes shifting from the emboldened man to Mo, only waiting, only watching.

rukh

let forever drag me down