until the {k i tt e n} shows her ./c l a w s

[Jocelin d'Chat]

J O C E L I N
→ watching.you

Tick tock . . .

She was alone. She was always alone. In her mind, she was an island and in her body, she was an outsider in a society where she should have had it all. Pfft, should have. Right. 'Cause I was such a freaking model daughter. The girl rolled her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh that nobody would hear, simply because she was alone. Even as she made her way through the throng of people, the way that they recoiled when they touched her, as if they had come into contact with something not quite of this world, reminded her of this fact... and she didn't care. Sure, it would have been nice to have a friend or something, but if she thought about it the chances of that happening were only slightly better than none. She didn't speak and she had the habits and mentality of someone with more severe mental... issues than anyone in these times was really equipped to deal with. The whole cat thing probably didn't help that any.

It wasn't long before she slipped into an alley, surprisingly untousled from her forray into the mass of bodies. Her fingers sought out a small jug and pulled it from her overcoat, bringing it to her mouth and drinking the mixture of juice and honey, her eyes scanning in front of her for possible things of interest. Finding nothing particularly eye-catching, she turned and walked down the alley, following it idly; she had nothing better to do. Her legs carried her through the grime and dirt and her feet, smudged brown simply from walking, carrying her on as her fingers lazily held the handle of that precious jug. Jocelin could feel the reassuring weight of her knives pulling at her coat and she wasn't scared of the alleys anyway; too many things feared her for her to be afraid of any of them.

No need to be afraid of the little kitty... she thought, a somewhat cruel smile tugging at her pale, pink lips, She doesn't bite... too much. Her free hand delved into her outfit and pulled out one of the blades, only to idly toss it into the air and catch it by the handle as she continued walking. No, she wasn't the most normal of people, but when had that mattered? A slight sound caught her attention and she paused, listening and apprehensive, but she soon realized it was a rat and resumed her stroll, although she seemed more to glide over the filth around her, even covered and strange as she appeared.

Some part of her wanted to change. It wasn't unusual at all; some part of her always wanted to change, just like some part of her wanted to follow people and bend them to her will and play with them like mice. That didn't mean she ever listened to it. Sure, sometimes she gave in, but that was often because she was bored and because it gave her a feeling of freedom that her human skin never had. All of her scars, all of her previous pain, they all seemed to melt away when she became that cat, and she felt free for one of the few times in her life. Of course, she got that same feeling whenever she watched these pathetic excuses for life scurrying around with their daily routines, pretending that nothing was wrong. There was a fucking Inquisition going on, dammit! When were they going to fucking realize that?

Of course, her eyes flashed this anger for but a moment before they returned to the calm, unreadable depths that they always were. Her face remained impassive and her stride remained the same and nobody would ever know how badly she wanted to grab these pathetic sheep and shake them until their necks snapped, shake them until they realized that they would die because nobody was going to care what the hell they were, so long as they had someone to blame and who the fuck cared if it was fair because nobody gives a shit as long as they have their damned scapegoat. Jocelin took a breath and let it out slowly, her pace slowing just a bit as she brought the knife up to her face, examining the blade. In one fluid movement, she pushed her sleeve up, brought her drink to her mouth, and took a hearty swallow, and in the next second she had rested it in her lap and dragged the blade over her arm, just hard enough to draw blood. She let out a faint hiss, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, I can still bleed.

It was all she needed to know. Bringing the knife to her mouth, she carefully, tenderly licked off the blade, and then moved her attention to her arm, licking her wound and then sucking on it lightly, since she lacked any material to wrap around it and stop the bleeding. That was a first for her, but she realized after a moment that it probably wouldn't be the last. The need to know that she was still a living, breathing thing, whatever she was, had come upon her so quickly it would have taken more than she was willing to give to protect her pathetic husk of a body. People wondered why she didn't talk, why she didn't really eat... they didn't understand that she didn't see a point. If she spoke, she was inevitably wrong somehow, and if she ate it only gave her more stamina for when they beat her. They won't be doing that anymore... she thought smugly, but there was an undercurrent of fear. What if they found her? What if... what if they did?

Shaking her head, the girl rose to her feet, multiple layers of clothes rustling about her as she took her knife into her good hand and tucked her jug back into her coat. The knife was a warning to anyone that felt like messing with her; she was really not in the mood right now. She was bored, however... so the knife was hidden away once more and she removed her hand from her arm, letting the cut bleed out; it wasn't that bad, really. Jocelin wanted to play with someone and the kind of play that she enjoyed usually meant someone would get hurt. That someone sure as hell wasn't going to be her.

Her face was unreadable for a few seconds more as her mind turned over the different outcomes for this, but then it shifted to the lost look of someone completely out of her mind and she was in character. Hell of a character this is; I'm practically playing myself anyway, she thought bitterly, even if she knew it wasn't true. For this act, she was a pathetic nobody, lost and hurt and scared. She hoped she'd find someone that could keep her interest, except she was in the back alleys and the chances of finding anyone worth keeping around weren't too great. Her fingers pressed into the small cut as if she were trying to stop the bleeding and she stumbled forward, her feet suddenly seeming to be made of rock. Oh, she was an actress.

[/blockquote]

written for any sucker in town
by the lovely Jocelin
who, at present time, is feeling playful, in her screwy kinda way
for you, she wrote 1232 words
and I think... she needs to be committed... again... but then she'd break out and eat everyone But really, she'll get bored of acting fast, soyeah. I may revise if it I dun get a reply by tomorrow ^^; revised o:

[Cian Kosa]

to see spring flowers bloom at your touch.

He shouldn’t be here. He knew he shouldn’t be here, yet here he was, walking the streets with his hands tucked inside his slacks and his head down. It was so often now that he wandered, just let his feet take him where they would and his shoes patter the streets with a daunting melody. The sun was setting, and clouds in the distance were taking on the pale gold that the sun had left behind. The alleys were... dirty. Cian, who normally could find beauty in everything, had lots of trouble finding complementary items in the dark passageways. Rats scurried about his feet, and the young male fought the bile that rose in his throat whenever they passed by his suede and leather shoes, the laces or buckles always done properly and with neatness and order it’s first priority.

Cian was one of the few men who wore shoes all through the year. Summertime usually let on to bare feet, unless you were a noble or someone of higher stature. But Cian had learned from his sister that it wasn’t the best idea. When he was seven and Rosa was six, she walked in something foul, somewhere, and got hookworms. They weren’t bad, and Meiza caught them before they got into her system too badly, but the little girl was bedridden for quite a time. Cian had always been short of words, that was for sure, only because talking wasn’t what he enjoyed. But by that bedside he talked to Rosa all day, whenever she wanted, until she slept, for she was miserably sick. From that day forward, he never went barefoot unless he was bathing or sleeping. He hated to feel useless, as anyone would, and quickly (as well as rightly) associated hookworms with bare feet. And there was no way he was going to ever be stuck in a bed like Rosa was.

Rosa. Oh, Rosa. Such a beautiful girl, and with so much going for her. But she hated him. Hated him for saving her life! Cian fought back tears and flicked his nose habitually with his thumb and forefinger. To hell with her, he thought sadly and very falsely, still pushing the rising lump from his throat. Cian loved her to death, but wasn’t it enough to say that he pulled her from the torrent to save her own life? The raiders, the savages, whatever one was to call them, were running through, and he had been terrified not only for himself but his sister that was only one year his junior. They had been close, but not too close – he could only assume that was why she didn’t understand. He understood the fact that her lover was dying. He got it. But there was nothing he could do to help him, and either way, family always came first. Undoubtably, if there was any loyalty at all within a person, it was to their family first and foremost. Cian couldn’t even begin to imagine life without his large family group, as he had never even been an only child. He was born with Torin already his senior, then came Rosa, and then came Jack, then Luther and Aaron, and Amelia and then Emily... such a large group! They were, albeit, impossible to please sometimes, but Cian would have been lost without them, and even more terrified of the future than he already was. The raid on Shire had put all of them in a bad position, and Cian was afraid. His family was Gaoru, he knew. But he was born human, for some reason that was not clear to any of them. He put himself in the direct path of Gaoru and otherling alike during full moons, and when he was a child, felt extremely left out. When he finally let himself be bitten, it was by a dog– a breed that he had never seen before. A dalmatian, though he knew not of the name. The actual dog breed would not appear for quite a time afterward when selective breeding was taken more and more into account. Though this man could not have been the first of his breed, and so neither was Cian. With his transformation he felt more and more in tune with his family, and became so deeply entwined within their fabric that he felt they would never let him go. And, in actuality, he was beginning to realize this fear more and more.

With Rosa hating him, he practically feared his own home. She was a strong woman, and extremely so. The young girl that she had once been had completely vanished from Cian’s point of view. He couldn’t find anywhere to place the blame, however. Half of the fault laid with the attackers at Shire, for without them, Cian and Rosa would have been as close as they ever had been, but the other half had to rest on one of those involved. Had it been his fault for saving her life, and protecting her with every fiber of himself? Had it been hers for not complying when she knew there was danger, and then hating him for it? Or, to stretch it even further, was it David’s fault, for getting hurt and dying in front of his lover? Surely it wasn’t his, for the dead are never seldom for much. It was respect to keep their reputations pure while they rested inside their grave, a concept which Cian understood both the face value and the reasons at a higher depth. And his reasoning was pure, though so was hers. The cloud of guilt and blame laid like a stealthy cougar, ready to explode in a fury of lightning and thunder at any amount of friction. He hated the fact that she hated him. Cian could never hate his baby sister, absolutely never. Plus, he had no reason to. Hating someone for the sheer reason that they hate you was absurd. They were family, flesh and blood, but the man felt as if he could not come home until he was sure she was asleep. He had to be absolutely positive.

The thought of getting his own house flitted through his mind for the nth time since they moved to Ville de Kadence from their previous Shire home. But Cian did not have the money to buy such a thing, and he didn’t know how much he could stand realization. Buying another home would be running away from his problems. After all, she couldn’t hate him forever, it physically wasn’t possible... was it?

Cian came back to reality as his shoe scuffed on a displaced rock in the alley street. Shadowy figures lurked in the dark, and in a distance, the male heard grunts and exhales that he did not want to place action to. Before he went any further into the noise, he turned, a small blush crossing his face, and his hand subconsciously raking through his wind tousled hair. The freckles on his face would hide the minor coloration for now, but the sun was setting, and it was getting dark. And as was his nature, Cian tried to avoid awkward situations. Having to pass by a noisy and obviously passionate alleyway sex time would just be setting himself up for complete failure. The poor man was shy by nature, though he could be romantic and talkative to some, but in his defense, walking in on a scene like that would be traumatic for anyone.

As the man returned back to a normal pace, it seemed like the shadowed figures had multiplied in the time it took to complete his one-hundred-eighty degree turn. He knew that thieves, drunks, sailors, and whores alike took to this area. Even as he thought, a woman stumbled out of the dark almost directly in his path, and Cian instinctively put his hands on the sides of her arms in an effort to steady her. “Watch your step, Miss,” he said to the woman, his tone a bit uncomfortable, but still with the touch of romantic charm that any masculine voice could hold.

Why was he here again? Oh, that’s right. Because he was a dumbass. Cian winced inwardly and kicked himself in the brain. If Meiza found out about this, he would be good as dead if he was lucky. And this woman in a cloak that covered her entire body wasn’t exactly looking like the best of company.

It could have been the millionth time he told himself the same thing. If it wasn’t for Shire, none of this would be happening.

[Jocelin d'Chat]

J O C E L I N
→ watching.you

A quiet gasp was the girl's first reaction to his touch, soon followed by a slight tremble that caused her hands to shake and her eyes to snap up to his. Her ears gave a slight twitch as she caught the sounds in the alley, but she paid them no mind, letting herself focus on the tone of this male's voice. It was rather nice, wasn't it? She gave him a quiet smile, her mouth closing and staying that way as her cheeks flushed slightly. Jocelin wouldn't be falling over, at least. She glanced at her arm and discreetly tugged her sleeve over it, her mind slowly turning over various ways to trap him - she hadn't had any interesting company in a long time, even though she didn't talk enough to draw any.

After a moment, she bit her lip and looked at him with her face full of pitiful gratitude, "Thank you, I should really watch where I'm going..." she murmured, her voice smooth and gentle and with the faintest hint of sensuality. Her eyes searched for his and she stared at him for a moment before giving what seemed like a satisfied smirk and glancing away. "What's your name?" she asked quietly, taking a step away. She didn't particularly want to, despite her aversion to anyone touching her, but if she was going to do anything, she couldn't make him think for a moment that he was going to be in charge of her. That idea was just not acceptable.

The fact that she had decided to say even a few words to the stranger said a lot, though exactly what was being said was as confusing as she was. Either she actually found some interest in him or she was so startled at the fact that someone had actually touched her. She was a freak to them all, wasn't she? A ghost and a castoff and all of those other names she had been called. Who would care what she said? It wasn't exactly like she would know anything interesting, except for who was cheating or plotting or hiding something. The girl made it her duty to know what was going on, just because it gave her some feeling of purpose. Yet... she was new to this area and hadn't gotten a feel for the locals, so she did not know this boy before her. She stood straight and looked at him, mentally recording everything she noticed, but somehow managing not to look like a complete creeper in the process. Her gaze was strong and slightly detached, but she didn't ever look threatening unless she was mad... and Jocelin definitely wasn't mad. He'd have known if that was the case.

One thin hand moved to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it carefully behind her ear as her other hand pulled out her drink and she took a sip, tilting it towards her companion, "Want some?" she asked with a smile, not entirely sure what his response would be. She didn't really mind sharing, as long as he didn't try making her eat anything else or something equally stupid. She still wanted to change, except doing that here would be stupid. Jocelin didn't do stupid... usually. Talking to this guy might not have been the brightest idea, but it wasn't like she was throwing herself at him or anything, right? That could come later.

Though her face remained set in friendly offering, her mind gave a very decisive cringe. She didn't understand why anyone would want to do that sort of thing, though she was happy to use it as a weapon if things came to that. The feeling of being so vulnerable, so exposed... it made her feel sort of sick. The muscles in her back flexed slightly and she continued to push back the want to change, feeling more than vulnerable in this fragile human skin. She didn't know about a third form, she only knew the basic two, but what she did know was that, as a big cat, people didn't mess with you. And they sure as hell didn't expect you to talk. It felt like a more natural form than her human ever had, but she couldn't stay in it because, well, she was a large freaking cat. They would quite possibly kill her... and, given that this was the city of wolves and full of the beasts, she didn't exactly feel safe struttin' her feline stuff where people could see.

Which meant she was stuck in this godawful form at least until the sun went down, which looked to be in a few hours, assuming she was lucky. Jocelin wondered if she could get this stranger to stay with her until then. Some part of her was already sort of attached to the boy, which meant that he would be under her watchful eye until he grew boring, at the very least. More likely, since she had already talked to him, she would continue to do so. If it took intimidation, she really didn't care, since the tone of his voice, the way he had steadied her (she wouldn't have stumbled, but he didn't need to know that), even the way he smelled (despite the fact that there was a faint hint of dog... she could live with that, though)... they all made her want to know him, know about him. It was an odd feeling, but she didn't think on it too much; Jocelin had lived on instinct too long to care about something like that.

Her unusual eyes scanned his face for some hint of the animosity that she usually encountered when she was in the presence of others. She was a freak, after all, and everyone knows that you're mean to the people you secretly (or not-so-secretly) suspect of being a murderous psychopath, right? It was odd for her, being treated at all kindly, and her body instinctively shuddered at the thought of being touched again. It had been pleasant that once, but who was to say that he wouldn't take to beating her as well? A dangerous thought formed in her head, bearing no influence on her expression, and she gave a mental sigh, If he hurts me, I may have to kill him. I don't think I could live with myself if I let someone get away with that...

written for Cian Kosa
by the lovely Jocelin
who, at present time, is feeling intrigued, stalkerish
for you, she wrote 1100 words
and I think... My muse just kinda died x.x; Methinks it's stress D: Or insomnia. OHWELLS xD Haveapost<3 I like that number xD Andand I added to it. 'Cause I'm cool

[Cian Kosa]

the autumn leaves are falling like tears from her eyes.

She seemed grateful enough, and with pale lips biting down on one another she seemed to hold a kind of youthful nervousness that he had given up in his teenage years. Her dark hair was rather long, with waving, tousled curls laying every which way in a lopsided manner that he thought only his little sister could accomplish. Her eyes were a deep blue, perhaps the deepest he had ever seen. He did not envy her for her beauty, but simply allowed himself to take it in for a moment. In all of his awkward discomfort, Cian couldn’t help but smiling at her.

In her own extremely odd way, she was just as beautiful as a porcelain doll. Even though her clothing covered her body and allowed for all curves to be diminished, he still thought her just as pretty as any girl he’d seen. And in an alleyway, too! Cian’s shyness took over at his brief intermission when she spoke and a touch of rose flushed over his freckled cheeks. It wouldn’t be visible to her unless she was looking, but by willing it to disappear, the color jetted further down his cheeks, inching farther and farther away from his freckles.

In his luck, the girl broke the silence that he was not willing to shatter. He nodded in response to her first words, dipping his head to her and trying to force out the welcome that his mind told him, but his body wouldn’t allow. Cian scolded himself. Nervous, in front of a small woman, in an alleyway. He was strong, and he was tall. If the situation turned ugly, he was also fast. So why the hell was he nervous? “Cian Kosa,” he murmured after her second set of words, some of his nerves receding as she took a step back. God, was that all it took? Was he really scared of... women? Rather not scared, but anxious at least. It was almost degrading. Of course he was all for individuality, and believed that women could potentially be just as powerful as some men, but if he was this shy, he wouldn’t ever court a woman. Meiza would kick him if she found out, and maybe even hook him up with one of the women she ‘just happened’ to know. This one wasn’t even tempting in the way that a few of his friends found the prostitute women to be. She was beautiful in her own feral, simple way, not in the body but in the face. He considered the fact that his friends might not even understand the concept, and suppressed an inner smirk. Stupid bastards, he thought to himself, laughing inwardly.

He was rather used to his canine form, spots and all, but he had still not learned to utilize some of his canine functions in his human form. His sense of sight and smell stayed the same. The only difference that he realized was his ability to run faster than normal. He rarely talked to his family any more, let alone talk to them about the otherling and Gaoru benefits. However, he did experience some kind of sense that was unknown to his human form as the female looked at him. The hair on the back of his neck bristled and his throat rumbled, just barely vibrating, and without sound. Like a prickling of hair and a growl. He felt no hostility towards this girl, though he was somewhat guarded, but something inside him was naturally aggressive, almost like a dog sighting a cat inside it’s territory. Cian shoved the feeling down, however. His other form confused him, and he was not about to shift in front of anyone, let alone a total stranger.

As she sipped from her drink and offered him some, Cian politely refused with a simple, “no thank you.” However, with a burst of courage, he asked a simple question. “What is your name?” When he thought about it, he could only find one reason why he had lost much of his anxiety in just a moment. She had drank, and that meant that she was real. She was not a mirage, not a porcelain doll that had risen from it’s box. Surely she was dressed oddly, but Cian couldn’t judge; not when he knew what it was like to be poor and rejected. Which was, in entirety, exactly how he felt. Rosa had completely avoided him, and she was more the family favorite than he for her more outgoing nature, which led to them ignoring him equally as much.

He was like a little boy lost in the park without his mother. He was secretly terrified of the future without his family, though he would never tell them that, nor would they ever ask.

[Jocelin d'Chat]

J O C E L I N
→ watching.you

He was just too precious! The girl felt a gentle smile forming on her face; she had noticed how shy he was and that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Well... maybe not exactly, but it was adorable nevertheless. Then he spoke and she could have purred; he really was such a cute thing. He was bigger than she was in every physical sense, yet he was so nervous around her. Jocelin couldn't help feeling a small sense of superiority in this situation; she was a cat, after all. "Cian..." she pretty much did purr back at him, though it wasn't so much that she sounded suggestive as... pleased? That was probably the best way to describe it; she was happy that he had answered her.

Why was he still looking at her? Despite all of her outward calm, Jocelin found herself mentally squirming. It wasn't that she didn't like it, she just wasn't used to it. Who would, after being considered one of the living dead for so long? She was used to stares and hostility and even sometimes pity, but this was different. He was simply looking at her and that made her uncomfortable. His question saved her from having to speak again immediately and she silently thanked him for it; she wasn't one to talk to strangers usually. The fact that she had spoken to him really did say a lot, but when he declined her offer she gave him a smile and a shrug before she tucked her drink back into her folds of clothing and tilted her head slightly, listening to his question. She answered him simply, quietly, her voice thoughtful, as if she was thinking of something else, "Jocelin..." she was thinking of other things, of course.

Her tongue poked out from between her lips to lick off the faint coating of honey that had been left behind and she regarded him quietly for a few moments, everything about her unthreatening, but mostly impassive. What was she going to do? He seemed nice... but that meant absolutely nothing to her. He had been nice, but look where that had gotten them. Her fingers pressed against the familiar weight on her side and she let a wistful smile flicker across her lips, her eyes somewhere far away. Thank you... she thought, glancing down for a moment to clear her head before she looked back to Cian, the lovely creature that had happened to cross her path. There's a thought! Maybe they don't want to cross my path because I'll bring them bad luck. I don't doubt that they'll have some of that if they cross me... Her eyes shone with faint amusement, she'd give them hell if that was the case. There was no way that you could cross this kitty without getting to deal with her claws.

After a moment, she flashed the male another smile, "So do you live around here?" she asked, with every indication that it was a perfectly innocent question. Her eyebrows raised, her eyes focused on his face in what may have been an uncomfortably inquisitive stare, and her head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Her hand moved to her shoulder, where she had been bitten, and pressed into the fabric of her cloak with enough pressure that she could feel it, but then she let the hand drop and let her eyes focus on something behind him as she shifted her attention to her other senses, letting the sounds of the alley fill her ears as she determined just who was nearby. When it was clear that those 'lovebirds' a ways off were the only ones around, she gave him a smile that displayed nothing but the kindness she oddly felt for him, "You're one of them. But you're different, aren't you?" Her voice was still quiet; there was no chance anyone else could have heard. It was important to her that nobody heard, after all. She liked this boy. The otherling's voice suggested detachment from her observation, but inside she was actually sort of excited. If he wasn't entirely like the garou that made their home in this city then he was a bit like her. Of course, he was still canine. She could smell that much. But he wasn't a wolf, which was enough for her. He knew what it was like to be that sort of an outsider, to some extent. That was assuming that she was right, but she was almost always right.

Her lip was back in her mouth, however, and she felt her heart pounding slightly faster in her chest; she was actually sort of nervous. She wasn't acting anymore, though since she'd run into him (or had it been he that had run into her?), it was questionable whether or not she had ever really been acting. Of course, there was always the rather large part of her that she hid behind silence and implied apathy, but he had already seen more of the girl than anyone had in a long time... and that scared her. The smart thing to do in this situation probably would have been to leave and never look back, but some part of her wanted this, so she stayed.

As she thought about what she should do, Jocelin found her fingers idly rubbing the scar on her right palm, where the silver knife she carried with her had sliced through her skin in her effort to grasp it and defend herself. She had so many scars, each with a story. Here is where I got turned into what I am, here is where my father beat me until I bled, here is where the belt broke my skin while my mother held me steady... here is where the knife cut me right before I killed my only friend. Such wonderful, uplifting stories those are, she thought with an inward roll of her eyes, Just what everyone looks for in a girl, right? Nice face, decent body, scars all over the place. And they wonder why I wear this cloak? None of them want to see this. Who would want to know that someone else has been through hell?

Her mouth narrowed to a small line and she gave him a curious look, as if she wasn't entirely sure what to do with this not quite stranger that now stood before her. With a shrug, she let out a slow sigh and covered her mouth demurely as she yawned, a slight squeak following the action that made her cheeks flush a light pink. She hadn't slept well in days, if not weeks or months. There was so much wrong with the girl; she couldn't sleep, she didn't eat, she barely talked... she sure as hell wasn't happy. She didn't act or look or dress the same as anyone she had ever seen. And yet, despite all of that, she was so unique that one could hardly imagine her as anything else. And yet, wasn't that what all of those people had tried to make her? With their violence and their anger and their disappointment... wasn't that what they had tried to do? Make this strange, feral being into something that they could understand. Because what fun would she be to toy with if they didn't know what they were doing to her?

Cian, he had said his name was. He was attractive and she would admit that. He had beautiful eyes and a voice that made her want to melt, though whether that was because it was actually directed at her, as opposed to through her was unclear. And he was strong, or stronger than her pathetically emaciated form, at least. It wasn't that Jocelin was weak, it was just that she didn't eat anything, really, so it was hard to imagine that the small amount of food she did put into herself would be converted into muscle, as opposed to fueling her body in an effort to keep her from eating herself from the inside out. Some part of her wanted to run her fingers through his hair to see if it really was as soft as it looked, and another wanted to brush against him to see if the rest of him was as smooth as she found herself imagining it to be. But that would be improper, of course. His freckles were adorable and in her quietness, she found herself idly wondering if they were spread over his body or if they were solely on his face. These thoughts were somewhat dangerous and she knew it; her cheeks flushed again and she fought the urge to avert her eyes. When that finally subsided, she let her lip back between her teeth and returned to her thoughts. Would he be disgusted if she touched him? Would he like it? It didn't really matter, she supposed; she wouldn't risk scaring him off by trying. She still wanted to get to know this shy being before her.

written for Cian Kosa
by the lovely Jocelin
who, at present time, is feeling curious, attracted, possessive
for you, she wrote 1537 words
and I think... whoo, done~ She's being cute. I dunno how to deal with this xD! Butbut yush. I hope joo like it <3