[There stands a man most out of place and yet forever belonging. Tall, an expression neutral but thoughtful as he becomes aware of the surroundings, the hint of that sea breeze (no smell discernible, he notes) ruffling through his short russet hair and the long coat he wears.
And he just smiles. Smiles in the way most unlike a dreamer, far too at ease, far too knowing, and just lifts his chin up to stare up at the sky. That lazy sort of comfort a predator might get when they say all right, dear, I'll play. ♪
He eyes the swing for a moment (only from the corner of his eye, never looking directly) before stepping closer to reach up and grasp one of the fruits.
Tight. A gesture sudden for him, but then relaxing and it becomes obvious he's barely touched it; doesn't mean to grasp or take it.
Golden eyes hood.] Something is missing. [Murmured low and soft, running a gloved finger along the fuzz of the peach before letting his hand drop to his side.]
The story would be quite different if there were not a snake in this tree.
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