His eyes are ablaze, his irises a bright clear yellow gold. Very unusual, striking colour, almost iridescent in some lights.
As the ancients polished golden plates to a mirror sheen, his eyes tell me more about my own motivations than his. I see what I want to see.
That said, his designs on me are far more obvious than mine on him. No need to read eyes when the shy fidgeting, smiles, and furtive glances tell the tale, not to mention the practised nonchalance that he works so hard on to cover his tracks.
We are playing a form of chess, and where in other games with other mates we’ve moved with blitzkrieg speed, with each other we play a very slow tournament by mutual unspoken agreement. Advance and retreat, advance and retreat. Long ponderings between moves.
I suspect when he looks at me he sees the yellow of his eyes reflected back at him as a danger sign. Possibly with good cause.
A momentary distraction from whatever ails us in our own lives or something real… hard to say. It might be a decade or more until we find out and we’re fine with that.
I said at Lammas that come the Equinox my life might be dramatically altered. Much has already happened to that end, much more is underway. As to whether the on-going chess match with the golden-eyed wraith will also change its pace in time for the Equinox, well… still too soon to tell.
