"You're a girl...I think," Stefan half-declares, half-asks. He doesn't know what to make of this girl-like creature. The expanse of the field around them shrinks to envelop them in a bubble of space that only includes them, their breathing now in sync after having set their eyes upon each other after mere moments.
He can't tell how old she is just by quickly glancing at her. She seems older than Stefan because of her eyes. They are a unique shade of green so captivating that his heart stops; they are shiny and clear and glitter like a polished gem. The green of the grass below their feet and the green of the leaves on the trees surrounding them seem dull in comparison.
Her eyes hypnotize him into feeling a flurry of emotions he can't quite articulate yet. Stefan wonders in a haze: maybe there are no emotions that exist to determine how he feels. Her eyes intimidate him so thoroughly that he looks down at his hands, which are trembling with an intensity that feels as if his body will turn into an earthquake, destroying the lush nature around them.
Somehow, deep down, her eyes reassure him. The world isn't a horrid place, her eyes say. Her eyes might be lying to him, because there's a sense of maturity to them. What has she seen to justify this? She carries herself too gracefully, with too much poise, and with too much precision. He can't stop his intense staring at her eyes.
Most importantly, she looks like she could rip him to shreds with the power she exudes. He realized it is her her horns that make her look more powerful. They are curled and rough and perched on her head like a crown. Despite her raw power, she is dainty, delicate, fragile. She is much smaller in size than Stefan, but he realizes they are somehow the same height. The horns made her seem taller, larger, more frightening. Her wings, which laid flat behind her, are the same shade of brown as her hair; it is feathery and probably feels like sheep's fur. The softness of her lips and the roundness in her cheeks makes her seem young, innocent. She is likely made of exquisite porcelain, and frosted glass, and the cleanest ivory.
"Girl?" Maleficent asks, cocking her head to the side. Stefan furrows his brows in confusion.
"You're a girl, and I'm a boy. Don't you know?" Stefan asks, the curiosity and confusion in his voice abundantly apparent. The breeze that tickles at his skin ripples through the leaves in the trees, and runs through her rich deep sable brown locks, revealing more of her pale face.
"I do not know. Is it a name or an insult? Because you do not know me to insult me, and my name is Maleficent," Maleficent, the girl who doesn't know of girlhood, says with a lilting cadence. She sounds as if she's trying too hard to sound like a human. Stefan laughs at her reaction. It comes out too rough, too harsh. She is taken aback, but Stefan knows why: she is nervous. She doesn't know how to gage his reaction to her.
When he realized she was serious, he felt the words that would normally leave his mouth do not arrive easily.
"A girl is someone who looks like you: pretty and dainty and steely soft. You can carry children and you bleed once a month and you take care of the home. You cook, clean, and raise the family," Maleficent listens, rapt. Stefan realizes there's probably more than that. His description, the one he just gave, was likely the best way to explain womanhood to a girl who didn't get it.
"Is there more to human womanhood?" Maleficent asks in a breathy whisper.
"If you want to see, I can show you," Stefan says, and a surge of pride flows through him. He has convinced this girl-creature to do as he wanted, and it felt like he was invincible.
"Please!" She exclaims with a huge smile that takes up half her face. Before Stefan realizes it, his body is pressed into hers as they fly in the air. They are surrounded by an endless swath of clouds, and Stefan feels lightheaded. There is no noise above the ground, except for the beating of Maleficent's heavy wings; Stefan knows he's safe because Maleficent carries him with a tranquil confidence.
"At home, there is no sense of girl or boy," Maleficent says. The words girl and boy leave her lips as if she had spit out something sour and foreign.
"What is there then?" Stefan asks, afraid to look down in worry he'd suddenly become afraid of heights.
"Nothing. Just aesthetics. That is all."
"I can see that. Only a group a creatures who like aesthetic would choose to have eyes as stunning as yours."
He forgets his ulterior motive in the air as she keeps talking of the nature-based whimsy and sensual yet innocent usage of magic at home.