The Tangle The night was heavy and the air was alive

The figure that emerges is, at first, just an abstraction. The living embodiment of the cold winter and its layers of shadow. She is too tired to be nervous but there is a fundamental thrill that creeps down her spine all the same, and her eyes are glossing over with a thin layer of tears caused by the cold. As she blinks these away his form becomes more concrete, and she can make out that its just a boy — dark like Lily, but younger than her, closer to Ibis' own age maybe.

He says some strange things; sounds she's never heard, and it takes some time for the girl to find her voice. In the mean time she watches him, and as he comes closer she can see the gold that frames his cheeks and the white that contrasts his underside. She wants to say yes, but doesn't. Instead, she drifts closer to him and without a care to his personal space, presses against him for warmth. His scent is a strong one, and an unfamiliar one, but for a split second she's comforted by his presence and his warmth and her manners fly out the window.