Sheepeater Cliff To gather, such curious things

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: metaphors of slight sexual nature. No actual insinuation

She lied, for the first time in their conversation. She didn't know why. It came naturally because it was a half truth. She had no need to masquerade as someone faultless in the face of someone so departed from her homelands. She did not have the fear of being chased nor the reason to fear it. But still, she could not form the truth as words on her tongue.

It wasn't her fault. She'd done nothing more than exist. In part, it was true.

She pretended like this was the undoubted truth. She would muddy it in fog and punish herself when she strayed.

Purveyor of a vile misdeed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. She'd faced judgement. Perhaps not what was intended, but judgement nonetheless. What did it matter, out here? Besides,

She could trust him. He poured his words into her ears and looked at her the way he did, and she felt trust. But still, she lied. She'd make no corrections, and the fog would swallow her mind.

She looked into soulful eyes and does not see that he can see her difference. There is a look, you know, one she'd learned to see, and felt powerless to change. It crushed a part of her and invigorated another with a vile, dripping hate each time she saw the slightest drops in expression, the lapse in tone, turned hesitant as if she would shatter at each word, or shatter them themselves. That look that made her alien.

She looked into soulful eyes and something wrong was something absent, it was something crafted perfectly for her husk. There was perfection as it was always meant to be seen.

Vanity haunted her, or she chased it. Either way, it washed over her and sated her hungers. The validation quieted the rest of her like she was underwater. Weightless. Hushed. He'd jump off a cliff, if she asked, and that sort of dominion felt good.

He had fed her, and treated her when he needn't have stopped at all. He had not met her with teeth but instead with intrigue, and it was infectious... She would not send him off a cliff.

..You're the first I've come across that's talked to me like this at all. besides her brother, of course. She stares at him unblinking, and sits up to rest on her haunches without breaking the line that connected their eyes. Urchin, foul blood and foul soul. Stranger, intruder, sadist. He echoed her sentiments and none of those things were present here. She could pretend she was none of them and this felt god-like. She bled god's blood and was confident that Cassian would lap it up. It was just what she needed in this time of unwravelling doubt. Validation. Assurance. An ego stroked to climax.

It died, after a bit. I looked inside it. Its fascinating, seeing all the bits that spend our whole lives hidden. It had a mouse in its stomach—or what I think was was a mouse. It smelled terrible. She informs him almost casually, shuddering at the recollection of the pungeant, warm air she thurst her face directly into earlier.
I tried to eat some off its ribs, but it does not taste good. Vultures'll be at it by now.

She paused, and scraped the ground, lifting herself to trail past him and brush alongside him. It was in her nature to reach out physically for anything she wanted to grasp and twine herself with. Soul, body, or minds, all were equal without discrimination in her eyes. All left an imprint in the searing heat of her fire-stoked heart.

..Sorry to waste your hard work.. I am grateful! She slinks around, and then shortcuts underneath him to get to his other side and looks up at him with a cheery grin, her gaze lingering on the newly acquired nicks in his ears. She found his willingness alluring and deeply kindred. I can teach you more tricks, if you ever want. I think I'll stick around this area for a while.