Faithful Pebble
Part Thirty-Two
The wanderer tutted, "And I was resting against this too."
The girl whispered a laugh as she hobbled past him through the rock carved door. Out into the vortex of the well, she stood strikingly in the dim watch light as she peered back at the wanderer. Tainted blue in its harsh radiance, silver in its gentle warmth, he too was striking in his appearance, in his smile and his gaze. Of his beauty, she was not ignorant. Secretly, Iris met his stare with her own through the thick curtain of her hood allowing her attention to be captured, distracted well enough for her caution to falter and weaken in light of her admiration. And in that moment, because of that weakness, her veil finally slipped.
Unaware, her turning had allowed the peak of her chin to slip out from beneath the swaying fabric of her hood, and immediately the wanderer was seized, caught firmly though he spied neither pupil nor eyelash of the woman before him. Not on the fabric but on the girl herself, the silver sliver of her delicate human skin, his alert cyan eyes eagerly latched on in stunned silence the piece of her he was finally allowed to see. He held his breath, bit his lip and swallowed. Her skin shone. It was red and pink, painted delicately, and seemingly perfect although it was covered in filth and grime, the color of the soil around them. For a moment, his fingers twitched. He desired to reach out, to raise brown curious digits in order to brush away the coarse mahogany fabric, tilt up her chin and peer into the dirt stained countenance of her face. But knowing that he shouldn't, that he couldn't when he wanted to prevent her from fearing and cowering and shying away like she had already, he hesitated. Not yet, he thought. No, not yet. He licked his lips and fisted his twitching fingers, pocketed them subtly where his watch had once vanished. He didn't want her to run, not now that the rope, her escape, was in sight.
He stepped out of the tunnel and quickly repositioned the rock back over the hidden passageway. He hoped as he did so—subtly, steadily, surely—that now it would no longer function, no longer spin and seal away her secrets, keeping them from his grasp and his curious desire to understand. It moved silently like she did.
"What now?" she asked.
Proofing is a bear. - Calla