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“Pretty…” he murmured, and wondered if the spoken word was truly garbled when it emerged from his mouth, or whether it was his own issues with hearing, since his ears felt like they were stuffed full of wool.
The vision of loveliness seemed to move her lips, but he didn’t hear any sounds. Just a distorted buzzing, as if he was trying to hear her from beneath a pool of water.
“Never met a woman like you before,” he slurred, his fist wrapping around another tankard of mead reflexively.
He gestured with his other hand toward the general vicinity of her hair.
“Raven’s wings…”
A great flock of them in flight. But slow motion, like poetry come to life.
He tapped his index finger in the air, counting.
“So many stars…like freckles…”
Wait.
Had he meant to say that her freckles looked like stars instead?
He couldn’t be sure. It was all the same. Surely, no stars had ever looked half as bewitching.
“…Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…Like my very own cosmos to sink into…”
Was it his imagination or did the color in her cheeks grow a shade or two deeper? Could illusions blush?
“Never had my own woman,” he went on.
When lucid, he would never speak such thoughts. And more often than not, he made sure he never even thought such thoughts.
But tonight, he was drunk.
He’d worked hard to get here. He might as well enjoy it. And if he made a right fool of himself, well…he hoped he had no memory of it come the morrow.
His eyes were getting harder to keep open. His limbs felt so weighed down.
“Just for a night or two,” he amended. “I had women and they had me. But they never really had me, you ken? Just my body. This weak, human body.”
He closed his eyes for a little bit, resting them.
“I never had them either. They didn’t know me. I didn’t know them. I can’t remember their faces…Only my brothers. I remember my dragon brothers…”
He slitted his eyes and peered at this apparition through his lashes, afraid that if he didn’t keep an eye on her, she’d simply disappear.
“I remember you,” he confessed.
“I always remember. There’s no other kind of green…only the green of your eyes…”
Drunkenness did that to a man. Loosened his tongue until the truth overflowed.
Kai didn’t like this unfortunate side effect, but he figured that it was a fifty-fifty chance this beauty before him wasn’t real. Just a figment of his imagination.
After all, Eir didn’t wear those clothes. She never looked at him with shimmering eyes.
Cutting, frightening, lustful eyes, perhaps. But nevershimmering. Like starlight reflected in a trembling pond.
“…pretty…” he sighed, leaning his head against the wall at his back, his eyelids lowered almost shut.
“I know you…”
