Swiftcurrent Creek close your pretty eyes, my butterfly

he is crafted of the finest smoke and bone, a diaphanous concoction of only the purest gossamer indulgences. yet that look of such verdant lustre....it betrays any faux idea of delicacy about him. it scintillates with such sibylline intensity that polaris finds she cannot bear to look away, in fact does not even wish to. it instead sparks a hunger within hollowed insides, nurturing a flame of zealous intrigue. she simply must know what it is that such a gaze feeds his mind, what does he think as he stares at her in such a way? for an expression of such chilled aloof, emeralds scream and rally well kept secrets that coax her forth like a fish towards bait. and the way in which their vigilant press strips her bare, rather than cowering at such frank intimidation- it lures the desire of a challenge forth. her own mismatched stare narrowing back, chin tipping high, she would not be easy to read.

and if her greeting drips from a tongue like sweetened honey, his rolls from parted jaws like spiced smoke, as tame as it is unyielding. and...eyes widen a fraction, ears twisting back in startled fluster. shit. of course he'd heard her, the silence eddying amongst pattering rain drops would have been all too eager to whisk her soliloquy to any who dared intrude. she can only be grateful that it had been french she'd slipped into, far from eager to share such bittersweet murmurings with any at all, let alone a stranger. "ah..." she finds it in herself to break the contact now, cursory glance instead offered back to the chuckle of the mettlesome creek. "well if you can take my word for it, i can promise you i'm not crazy" ardent look catches ahold of his once more, tone feverishly chipper despite the restless pace of lingering shadows caught within bicoloured pools. 

she wonders, had things played out only slightly differently....could there be a chance she would have spoken to this man on this very day regardless, but as a member of swiftcurrent creek and he a curious traveller? or in the nature of butterfly effects, maybe one of them would not even be alive in this moment should things have taken a different route, possibly even both. how delicate was the balance of time in such a way? something as apparently miniscule as this very meeting, could it have jarring effects further down the line. glaring up to the heavy sky as she persevered with irksome weeping, she'd hum somewhat listlessly "i'm polaris"