Firefly Glen (m) Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Maybe it would be magical if he paid attention, but Ibis was the one who held his focus. The fireflies were noise on the edge of his mind, the glen he'd walked through just a map that talked to his feet and skipped his conscious mind.

And then she was quickly out of his reach, parting the glowing swarm for a moment before being veiled on the other side. But not giving up either, he called with a bit of a laugh as he slowed to turn in a tighter arc and get back on her trail. Again he had to gain ground, but for a few moments he just hung out and enjoyed the view from a few lengths behind, right in the air stream of her scent. It was a reminder that shifted  his perspective -- he was a catch, she should want him, he should show that. Stop running for running, move with purpose, elegance, prowess. Or something like that -- it gave him a bit more focus, a sort of devious grin. Eventually he moved forward to be even with her side again, his voice more smooth, but not quite melodic, Besides, aren't you missing all the scenery? Of course he could totally be the scenery here, but that wasn't necessarily the sole implication. He reached out to her, aiming this time to touch the back corner of her shoulder, he wasn't far enough forward to reach beyond that.

The longer it dragged on, the more he wanted to catch her -- from just the tag and running alongside to wondering if he should just tackle her when he was able. He needed something between the two -- this was Ibis, after all, the one who was always so delicate about everything, not a rough and tumble sort -- and he had a couple of fuzzy ideas.