got some brown eyes but i saw her face
The desert breeze sends chills down his spine. Such a thing in such a place in such a time should not happen to him, but it does. And his bones feel the creak-c r a c k-sound of an empty Arctic-chill.
The seemly beautiful brown eyes draw forth a curious customer, and Fran just tuts and turns her head. The ways of Humes have always enthralled her. She tries to ignore the curious look of Balthier, but no matter how many times she could allow herself to, her long prideful ears cannot pick up the sounds of a lamenting mother. Her mind is eternally attached in the hands of a zealous lover; someone who will never give her the time of day.
"My, my, my, Vaan, what beautiful brown eyes you have there," a flimsy elegant hand places itself on the bottom of a richly colored chin. Penleo attends to her nails, because truthfully, she wants to use them to rip out his throat. Let him bleed and let the desert sunlight give him shivers of pneumonia and let the arctic wind dry his skin.
Vaan however, likes the attention, and try and fail as he may, cannot break contact from Balthier's powerful gaze. He seems caught like a Gizan hare stuck in between the dreaded teeth of an Ahriman. It smiles, and you can see the mangled body and rust-stained mess.
And no one tries to stare, yet everyone sees out of the corners of their eyes.
"Rich and brown and beautiful," Balthier knows when not to talk eloquently. He always gets his prize when he changes his tone or dialect. Most people are so easy, while others are harder.
"Watch them turn away," a calloused hand slaps away the fiendishly white appendage. And the desert breeze chills his bones while the Arctic wind grinds them into dust, but Balthier doesn't feel it as he watches Vaan and a flustered Penleo walk away.
"You Humes," Fran sneers as she watches them walk away, but she's so relieved when they do. Balthier just blinks his own pair of eyes, then gestures her to follow with a fluid motion of his hand. A ghostly blur, and Fran knows they must leave.
"I couldn't stay in his brown eyes," and that was all he would say on that. Fran smiles daggers at him; she has always hated when Balthier lips a toxic sludge that tries to sound 'poetic.'
The desert breeze still continues to chill his bones, while the arctic wind grinds them into dust.
He doesn't care though; the loss of a pair of brown eyes had hurt him more.
guess its just a silly song about you and how i lost you and your brown eyes
disclaimer(title is in refrence to Lady Gaga's song brown eyes)
and
concrit greatly appreciated