Skye, a despairing lady in the full bloom of youth, stood alone on the beach, gazing over the cerulean water with her morose hazel depths. Her mahogany hair danced lightly in the ocean breeze. She tried to deny the stirrings in her heart, resting her cheek against one hand as she hummed to herself. She wore a carrot-colored bikini top, her healthily color-touched pale back covered only by a thin bit of string, and a tight flaming miniskirt showed the shape of her hips and the cotton candy-flushed silvery tone of her legs. Her hair was woven into a swarthy braid, complementing her pained lily-white, tinted with henna, visage. A prominent scar stood out on her lily-white, tinted with sepia, skin. Furry ears flicked at the top of her head, and she twitched her coffee tail. She stood, awaiting her love.
They had known each other since they were children. They had spent time together so often that, despite all differences, others often mistook them as siblings. However, it was not until recently that they had recognized their feelings for each other. From then on, Skye was sometimes needy and close, but then suddenly cold and fearful. Fury tried his best to hide his pain, but it was plain in her hands. That was how it was to this very day.
Her ears pricked at the sound of familiar footsteps. She twitched her tail happily and looked up before Fury even spoke a word. "Skye," he said simply with a glance at her outfit caught between disapproval and admiration and a smile on her face. Her kiwi-colored orbs complimented her chartreuse strands, brushing against her shoulders, belying her guileless heart. She was dressed in her usual everyday clothes. She had a toned but slender body covered with pale, tinted with sorrel, skin. As Skye drew nearer, she caught a note of Fury's familiarscent of lingering iron and steel. Her eyes softened. It always reminded her of the time they shared.
"Fury. I feared you might not come," Skye whispered.
"Of course I came," she said, sounding somewhat hurt.
Skye shook her head. "Everyone else abandoned me."
"I won't leave you," Fury said firmly. Fury held his hand out to her, and hesitantly Skye took it. With that, they began to walk along the beach.
Skye's mind was flooded by painful thoughts. She clung tightly to Fury's firm hand as if it could save Skye. She was without a mother and she was a freak. Fury, strong as he was, wouldn't possibly stoop down to help someone like Skye.
"What is it, Skye?" Fury suddenly asked.
"N-nothing," Skye whispered. "Why do you ask...?"
"Your hand is so tense." Skye let her head droop and let go. She was always causing Fury trouble... "I don't mean it like that. I mean if something's bothering you, you should tell me."
"No... Fury, I couldn't..."
Fury looked at Skye long and hard. Fury was struggling to understand what it was that plagued Skye, but to Skye, it seemed like he was glaring at her.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm always so..."
"Always so... what?"
Fury gave Skye a long and measured look. "You'll tell me when you're ready, won't you?"
Skye gave the faintest of nods. But of course she could not imagine ever feeling ready to tell her her secrets. In truth, Skye hardly even deserved her. Skye was ... Nothing but an outcast. A freak.