Shhh….Cede, I wrote a thing.
She knows immediately the boy is out of place. Out of context, out of orbit, out of time. Face is all wrong, too. Too soft and trustworthy and innocent for the darkness that waits to eat him. Too brown eyed, full lipped, connect-the-dots for the wolf hiding inside.
Fangs, claws, red dipped eyes. He doesn’t have them, but he deserves them, far more than those he left behind. Deception, predilection, heartbreak conception…she recognizes him because he looks like her.
She darts across the skyplex, Jayne’s Gorramit, crazy, get yer ass back here going completely unheard. She skids to a halt just in front of the shadows that shield the boy from casual glances, immediately touches his cheek, then giggles as he flails back, the string of his hood falling from between his teeth as his mouth gapes open.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hands off the goods, lady!” He’s muttering under his breath as he eyes the opening to the left of her, feet poised for escape. “Star Trek my ass; this is Chronicles of Riddick bullshit.”
She laughs again at the red yellow green of his confusion and malcontent, then holds out her hand.
“Ni Hao, Stiles. This girl is River. Serenity is waiting for you.”
