( four )

Never mind the fact this was a public park, the formerly-comatose man was already sprinting towards the fountain, stripping off all clothes that weren’t boxers, then jumped into the water and stayed submerged for more than a few minutes.

Suddenly, out of the water emerged a person baptized in ant bites, the red bumps having disappeared in the moments between. He awkwardly stepped out of the fountain, shook himself bone dry (somehow) and went to pick up and put on his discarded clothes.

This took a few moments spent in silence, without any attempt to address his company. After everything was in its right place and he had combed his bangs back a few times to have them slap back on his forehead again, he looked around to see if anyone else was around.

“…What day is it?” he asked again.

Miele curls a fist over her mouth, successfully stifling her laughter. Her expression remains cool, but her inner dialogue is howling. He wasted no time, did he! She didn’t mind the silence as he collected himself--when it seemed he wouldn’t speak with her at all, she began absentmindedly drawing lines into the earth with a stick. She truly doubts anyone who strips that quickly really cares about privacy, but she’ll offer it for the time being. “Day?” the response is innocent, lightly feigning ignorance. Miele glances at the sun, to an invisible watch, then to the opposite horizon. 

@cryptidaura

A peculiarity regarding his strange body: he doesn’t need to sleep. Well, not sleep very often. It wasn’t uncommon for the immortal to go two weeks without sleep. in fact, the longest time he spent awake had been two months. 

When he was reaching his limits of consciousness, he was prone to knocking out right on the spot and not waking until a full day had passed. Usually, he planned this out so that he would sleep in his home, but sometimes he would be caught off guard.

Like right now, looking like a modern iteration of Rip Van Winkle, sleeping peacefully beneath the shade of a tree in the park, having passed out trying to help a cat down from it. It was at this moment, when the sun was near dusk, that he began to stir awake.

Gradual, but very sudden as well, his eyes first scrunched at becoming aware of the light, then his eyebrows raised and his lips smacked a few times from a dry mouth. Then his eyes opened and he sat up.

“What day is it?” he asked out loud, adding to the absurdity to the random observer. Even more strangely, he immediately sprung to his feet and started scratching himself.

He had fallen asleep on an anthill, and while the scrambling ants initially went on a frenzy, the biting went unnoticed by an unconscious blue boy, and the colony eventually calmed down; except now, when he once again stirred the nest and was awake to feel it.

“Not again, not again, not again, not again.”

Coming across a stranger--something human-looking, no less--wasn’t exactly common. With rare exceptions, humans tended to prefer their creature comforts. Beds, interior heating, body pillows...Miele just couldn’t relate to how a creature so out-of-tune with nature could ever evolve from Pokemon. She crouches on all fours, watching in interest as ants indignantly stung his face. After a while they finally settled, grumbling but tolerant of the new structure that had ruined their home. 

He continues to sleep. She pokes him once just out of curiousity, but he refuses to stir. Several hours passed, and the evidence of previous ant self-defense begins to swell nice and red on his face. The red bumps eventually blossom with white, very sore caps. The ants have taken to spreading across his clothes and skin, exploring new territory for potential building materials and food. Unfortunately, this particular human seems pretty barren. Miele leaves and comes back with honey cubes, eating a few herself and sharing the wealth. Just a few might have melted onto his hair in the meantime.  

The human still sleeps. Miele begins to doze while waiting, and nearly misses the moment he finally wakes. But the ants certainly don’t. No, they’ve been waiting for this chance at revenge. Miele honestly can’t blame them--this guy was getting off pretty easy considering the gravity of what he’d done. It’s funny to watch, and she’ll just enjoy it a little while longer before finally indulging him. 

"You’re aggravating them, you know. They were perfect angels before you started dancing.” she gestures to a nearby fountain, cold and deep.  

This person was something out of a fairytale, Miele muses as she draws the stranger near to herself. Her eyes glimmer, half-lidded in a quiet confidence. 

“Dancing is one of the oldest forms of communication. It’s inside every one of us, even if rarely indulged.” Miele’s hand curls gently onto the small of her back, the other securing her wrist. She maintains eye contact while initiating a leisurely lead.

“My name is Miele. With whom do I share such nice company with? ”  The song remains slow but unawkward, and she won’t flinch a second if her foot happens to be stepped on. She’s very happy she can share this with someone, even a stranger. It’s been too long. 

repost, replacing the old information with your muse’s information.

pass it on to your mutuals for a better understanding of their muses.

▍ face claim: n/a ▍ name: Miele ▍ age: 131? 145? somewhere in between there, she forgets. if you cut her open you can probably find out. ▍ gender: female ▍ nationality: she hails from a very cold place with a weird B name.  ▍ residence: Apartment 362 (Golden) ▍ marital status: married 2 god but we’re in an open relationship.

l i k e s

▍ drink: Iced Bean Juice, Smoothies, Malts, Shakes, Iced Leaf Juice ▍ food: Berries, Fish, anything she can get her hands on honestly. tastebuds prefer flora over fauna but her stomach overrides them 99% of the time. ▍ day or night: Night ▍ snacks: Lum Berries. ▍ music: Self-indulgent pop music. ▍ quote: “If you’re referring to me, why does it matter what name you use?” ▍ historical character: N/A ▍ pet: N/A ▍ book: N/A (illiterate). She loves scary stories told at night, though.  ▍ colour: Gold. ▍ flower: snow flower ▍ sexuality: pansexual ▍ romantic orientation: poly/panromantic

l o o k s

It felt like a natural progression. Evolution brought changes she questioned, changes that didn’t feel were quite right when they finally came about. She was large and cumbersome, and her words felt as if they belonged to someone else. The change was cause for great distress.Her sisters never spoke on it, still called her by name as if they knew all the answers and that nothing had changed. They still dressed her in sacred garments, trusted her strength, allowed her to speak with the Mother. And the Mother...though she never replied, her presence of spirit was undeniable. It seeped into Miele’s very roots and only then did she feel complete as she had in her youth. When she questioned her sisters about her predicament, they reminded her that the Mother never lies. Her family's faith gave Miele the momentum she needed to do what was in her heart.She requested temporary leave to prepare. And again, as if they knew, her sisters did not deny it like they had in the past. Miele spent three months, silent and isolated, inside a cavern near the very top of their mountain. She’d never seen the sun’s body, but its light would periodically peek through mountain veil and reflect brilliantly all around her. Crystal stalactite refractions created a blinding array of colors that forced her eyes closed, too bright for mortals to bear. This too must’ve been the Mother’s blessing. And so Miele sat on frigid stone, suspended in time with her legs crossed, her breathing purposeful, her hands folded upon her chest. When she awoke, she was able to see through the light. The Mother’s fingerprints were all over her body, and she felt once more a long-lasting peace.

RULES:   TAG FOLLOWERS YOU WANT TO KNOW BETTER! 

TAGGING:   @dreadwhispers  @suplex51

NAME:   Miele STAR SIGN: Aquarius HEIGHT:   7′02 WHAT’S YOUR MIDDLE NAME?:   N/A

She couldn’t afford to remain at the whim of this sunlight.   

“Y-You...you there.” she staggers just once, righting herself as soon as the realization hits. Showing excessive weakness would do her no favors. 

“Somewhere cold. I need to go somewhere very cold. Please-”