Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

“Fun.”

Her smile is dark, baiting. The regal man would have no reason to trust an unknown woman offering unknown delights. She senses his temper is restrained; tamed, but through it are traces, something mirrored. The tip of her tongue flexes against her teeth before softening. No more is said as she recovers several berries from the pouch, laying a glistening collection on the lea in between them. He’s settled a considerable distance away when her eyes pass his again, and she allows herself to repose in kind, tilting her hips against the shale, loosening the strain from her forearms.

“Play a game with me,” the request evokes playfully, a light tease. “I will pose a statement of something I have never done, and if you have done it, you must take a berry. Then you will pose the same.” Sweetness from the wine braids with the pine in the air.

“I will go first: I have never had a surname.” Quiet, composed, yet the hebsut's amber eyes flash their knowing fire.