The weather could not have been more horrid, she was thinking. She was absolutely certain of that fact. Her long, pale, slender fingers played an imaginary melody against her leg as she stepped in, shaking her head slightly to dislodge the moisture from her hair. She smoothed down her dress, white with dull gold abstract designs, and stepped out of her dull gold slippers, leaving them by the door - it didn't much matter whether she wore them or not, whether she was able to retrieve them or not, because she walked on an almost-imperceptible layer of air between her feet and the ground. Her legs were long and thin, as well, but with small, circular scars, one on each popliteal region, so pale as to be nearly imperceptible. But she noticed; of course she noticed. She always noticed.
And so she watched the dusky-blond girl walk into the temple, looking up silently as if to seek solace. As if to find some reason to keep living. Just like her. Walking the same solitary path, discontented with it but having no way to change. No way to believe it possible. So they had both ended up here, believing themselves alone until that critical point where two axes crossed, that origin from which a new position function could be drawn. If only they touched for a brief moment, and fused.
She approached the girl.
And so she watched the dusky-blond girl walk into the temple, looking up silently as if to seek solace. As if to find some reason to keep living. Just like her. Walking the same solitary path, discontented with it but having no way to change. No way to believe it possible. So they had both ended up here, believing themselves alone until that critical point where two axes crossed, that origin from which a new position function could be drawn. If only they touched for a brief moment, and fused.
She approached the girl.