Continuing with the fiction:
There was a group of people swarming around him which would draw anyone's eye to the scene, but rather than that, he was the only person in the room who looked like he was brightly lit despite the dim and diffused lighting. Rallenta knew that why only his honey brown hair seemed to be infused with gold strands that picked up light where there appeared to be none, why his eyes were an unnatural mixture of caramel, cinnamon, and golden wheat. She knew that these features were not the ones he had at birth and that they had evolved over a period of time shortly after his twenty eighth birthday and that birthday had occurred many, many years prior to the current evening.
She wondered for a moment how the other people in the crowd saw him, if he appeared as luminescent to them as he did to herself, but she not or they would surely be frightened by someone so blatantly "other". She allowed herself to lay out against the roof, the concrete already made cold by the early spring air. The cold touched her bare skin causing her body to seize for a moment in an attempt to shiver, but her external responses to temperature had faded over the years until they finally had become obsolete; it was only in these moments of reflex that she was reminded that they had ever existed. Her breath quickly began to fog the glass, so she wiped it with her arm and slowed her heart rate so that she only needed to breathe once every few minutes.
The man she was watching was approaching a stage at the front of the room and the group that had been huddled around him branched out directly in front of the microphone he stepped in front of while conversations from the rest of the occupants in the room gradually ended and faces turned toward the stage and the man in anticipation.
There was a group of people swarming around him which would draw anyone's eye to the scene, but rather than that, he was the only person in the room who looked like he was brightly lit despite the dim and diffused lighting. Rallenta knew that why only his honey brown hair seemed to be infused with gold strands that picked up light where there appeared to be none, why his eyes were an unnatural mixture of caramel, cinnamon, and golden wheat. She knew that these features were not the ones he had at birth and that they had evolved over a period of time shortly after his twenty eighth birthday and that birthday had occurred many, many years prior to the current evening.
She wondered for a moment how the other people in the crowd saw him, if he appeared as luminescent to them as he did to herself, but she not or they would surely be frightened by someone so blatantly "other". She allowed herself to lay out against the roof, the concrete already made cold by the early spring air. The cold touched her bare skin causing her body to seize for a moment in an attempt to shiver, but her external responses to temperature had faded over the years until they finally had become obsolete; it was only in these moments of reflex that she was reminded that they had ever existed. Her breath quickly began to fog the glass, so she wiped it with her arm and slowed her heart rate so that she only needed to breathe once every few minutes.
The man she was watching was approaching a stage at the front of the room and the group that had been huddled around him branched out directly in front of the microphone he stepped in front of while conversations from the rest of the occupants in the room gradually ended and faces turned toward the stage and the man in anticipation.
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