Inarguably, she walks in beauty. Her body rises, pale and narrow, reaching out as a birch, each step she takes is the step of a dryad, a being from fantasy. Her smile shocks back the darkness, and in that alone, wrong things can be set right.
Is that what draws my kind to her?
Her heart beats not blood, but kindness. Never, ever have I seen her place her own desires above another, and beacuse of this, I call her generous. She is honest; I have never seen her hide something- merely not mention it. Her face is an open book for all who would read, and her expressions are written upon the finest scroll. Her hands will rest upon another and spread comfort.
Her soul is full of hope. Even when all reason, when all her companions, when our minds would tell her that it is time to declare an end, to surrender, she rises above and spreads hope. She clings to an ideal with a tenacity borne only of one who desires a better world.
So yes, we flock to her, myself and those like me. We offer ourselves to her, each of us wanting to feel her joy, ease her pain. People see this in different ways. Some of us see beauty in it. Some of us are spiteful of her ease in life. Some call her actions the culturally designated female role, what society finds "attractive", because of her body, and her honesty about her pain.
Pain. She has brought pain. Men have left thier partners for her, the objects of infatuation have turned thier backs on those that offered themselves, and instead, turned thier gaze upon her, only to find themselves lost on an unfamiliar ocean, alone. Few understand that each injury she inflicts, she returns upon herself, with at least the same intensity.
My kind are attracted to her because she is attractive. She loves deeply, she feels deeply, and she cares. Why would we not be attracted? My kind is wont to love her. I love her.
I cannot frown when she smiles. I cannot be pleased at her touch, at her kiss. She is possesing of the rare generosity of spirit that gives and gives, even when there is nothing left.