Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday! A day to strut, promote, and celebrate your Me-ness. Especially if you’re a member of Queer Sci Fi. 🙂

My means of celebration here at the Cauldron are preludes. Preludes to my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest series. Right now, I’m revising my first book, Stealing Myself From Shadows during Camp NaNoWriMo.

Last Monday, I ended my first prelude, Waiting for Rebirth.

I started a new one on Saturday, Unwilling to Be Yours. This Tale of the Navel is from the perspective of a new character, Peter.

Peter picks up right where he left on Saturday in today’s post…

He should have expected it. Why would anyone wear a black turtleneck and trousers in this heat?

Not that he didn’t look pretty in both. Especially with his hair. Such curls and waves shouldn’t be so short, although they clustered about his ears in an appealing way. The color of those curls more than made up for their shortness. Golden chestnut waves, with coppery bronze highlights captured the rays of the sun.

“Mine eyes dazzle.” My lips moved to form the words before I could stop them. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the reflected glow.

Not that the boy noticed or even realized I was there. He was grumbling, locked in an animated conversation with someone I couldn’t see.

“I hate being human, sometimes!” He shot a particularly malevolent glance at the sky.

Perhaps he was talking to it?

I might have worried more about in his sanity, if I hadn’t been so distracted by his appearance. Never had I seen so slender a boy, nor one with such delicate features.

Perhaps he was a girl?

No. His voice was too low to be female. Not deep, not by any stretch of the imagination, but not female.

Unaware that his manhood was being questioned, the boy continued to vent to his invisible companion.

“Why anyone would ever enjoy hot weather is beyond me!” The boy raised a pale hand to wipe his pale brow. The sweat gleamed upon his skin like tiny crystals.

It was time to cut into this bizarre conversation. After all, I could always just pretend he’d been talking to me.

“I quite agree.”

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin.

“There are far more agreeable ways in which to sweat.” I took a step closer to him, allowing him to take in my presence.

His violet eyes were already too big for his heart-shaped face. They got even wider at my comment

Perhaps such a joke had been a little too coarse for this shy little blossom. Yes, it’s an archaic way of regarding a boy. It’s exactly what this one seemed like to me. Especially at that moment.

 

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