She projects and intense vulnerability that turns to defiance when provoked, and it didn’t take much. Any multitude of non-events could lead to insubordination you would never expect from something some innocent. Despite this, people found themselves forgiving her not long after.
Naivety was a common misconception, but one that she allowed to continue so she could surprise people with her insightful comments that she had prepared in advance should the occasion call for it. People often described her as endearing, with her regional accent and loose tongue. None more so than the men who generally alternated between wanting to fuck her or hold her like a protective father. She was a precious rock that you wanted display, but hide away from the unworthy. A cloudy stone with flecks of moonlight shining through; an imperfect soul whose clarity has been compromised by the radiance of the aura she tries to hide behind.
She doesn’t glow. Her porcelain skin doesn’t make you shade your eyes, nor does it create shadows on objects as she moves. The shadows sit permanently under her eyes; eyes so blue and deep you know the undercurrent could drown you; but there is something mesmerising there, like a mermaid calling sailors to their deaths; causing their lungs to fill with water before dashing their skulls on the rocks. Her eyes pull yours down to her mouth which she keeps open ever so slightly, so you occasionally get a glimpse of her tongue gliding across her teeth. You can see the whiteness of her teeth as she breaths in and out, panting and pouting ever so slightly as if you are making her catch her breath. When she smiles her dimpled cheeks expand and cause her eyes to squeeze together, changing the once intense ocean into a kid’s paddling pool you wanted to dip your feet in to. There is a tempest behind her eyes. A storm concealed in moonstone.