Permafrost Hollows Fight or flight

tagging for visibility

Upon closer observation, the first thing she noticed about him was the color of his eyes. Her own felt washed out, lackluster, in comparison to the rich amber found in his warm gaze. Her colorless eyes shifted secondly to the scar spanning across his face from nose to ear, no doubt a hunting accident.

Uki raised an even stare at him, knowing her own scars were visible in the silver light of the moon. Part of her wondered if he found her scars ugly - the thick ropes of flesh that spoke of violence and horror - while another part, a part that sounded annoyingly like @Siarut, whispered that it was utterly stupid to worry about whether or not he thought her attractive. 

The waif could hear the question in his tone but merely shook her head, unable to understand. "I have no idea what you're saying," she murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips and warming her icy eyes slightly.  

"I don't know what I'm doing," she continued, not caring that he couldn't understand a thing she was saying. "I don't know why I came south or why I went with Siarut. I'm starting to think it was all one big mistake," she whispered, feeling tears burn behind her eyes and blinking to stave them off. 

"They're...They're the only ones I can speak to here. And they don't seem to like me all that much," her voice is tiny by the end, for it hurts significantly more than she thought it would - being outcasted. It had happened before, of course, but this was the first time she had found herself disliked by a group without having done something - directly, indirectly, or accidentally - that caused it.

The waif kept her gaze carefully turned elsewhere, so he might not see the sadness she was confessing to. She could have been talking about anything to someone who didn't speak her tongue, only the barest hints of despondency visible in the curl of her shoulders - not unlike the damaged pages of a worn book.