In his dark coat, the man melded almost seamlessly into the night beyond the glass, so that only the blast of cold air from outside signaled his arrival. From afar, the opalescent glint of that milky stone in the middle of the man’s forehead could have been a persistently sticky hailstone for all she knew. But on closer inspection, it appeared to be set into the small almond-shaped cleft in the flesh.
Born or modified? Yggdrasil cants her head, half in acknowledgement of the other, and half in blank study. Was it purely vestigial? Did it serve some other purpose? Was it a signifier of some sort? Or was it imbued with some extraordinary power? He appeared human enough. It looked like it could have hurt, having the stone embedded, to form and heal the skin around, just-so. But why go through the trouble?
She unabashedly stares at the man as he approaches to collect his order, so engrossed in her speculation that she had forgotten the number of loops and knots in the twine that she had already made, as she attempts to place the finishing touches. But at least, in the slowly growing tangle, the assorted cakes, cookies, and tea packets inside of his gift box would be very secure.
— @vcnbcelscr ❀
