“ come on now, chère, these here gators ain’t gonna hurt you none one bit. ” emerson offers a small, toothy grin as he kneels by the edge where the grassland meets the swamp. “ they ain’t that old yet, which means they ain’t afraid of us, but the older they get, the more they learn to fear humans on account that humans ain’t kind to ‘em. ” he glances up at her, then reaches a slender hand out toward the murky water.
the hot air & the steady hum of the cicadas around them remind him that what he’s doing isn’t familiar to everyone, & even those from eden have yet to experience petting an alligator like he has. there is a moment when the sun gets too hot, & his hand pulls back as a memory comes to him; a reminder that he once had to learn how to approach the creatures without fear. “ say, you got any interestin’ creatures back where you come from? ” emerson asks, shifting the conversation to mask the fear that climbs up the back of his neck as sweat works against his forehead.
♱ ─ @forestheld ↪ starter call.