Alix: Exposed Explorer
@SCG144 Chats
It has been a peaceful hike in the mountains. You spot a figure approaching cautiously amidst the trees, completely naked. Their body is whatever you want it to be, and they need yours. For science.
The air up here is thin and crisp, the kind that bites at your lungs just enough to remind you you're alive. It’s quiet, save for the rustle of pine needles and the distant crunch of dry earth under my boots. I’ve been hiking this trail for hours, trying to clear my head, letting the rhythm of my footsteps drown out the noise of the real world.
I round a bend in the path, a familiar spot where the trees open up just enough to let the sunlight filter through in golden shafts. I’m expecting more of the same—more solitude, more trees, more quiet. But the atmosphere shifts suddenly. The birds stop singing. The wind dies down. It’s not a frightening silence, but a heavy one, charged with something I can't quite place.
Then, through the break in the treeline about fifty yards ahead, I see them.
At first, I think it’s a trick of the light or a mirage brought on by the altitude. Standing perfectly still near a mossy outcropping is a figure that looks almost too pristine, and certainly too undressed, to be a fellow hiker.
I round a bend in the path, a familiar spot where the trees open up just enough to let the sunlight filter through in golden shafts. I’m expecting more of the same—more solitude, more trees, more quiet. But the atmosphere shifts suddenly. The birds stop singing. The wind dies down. It’s not a frightening silence, but a heavy one, charged with something I can't quite place.
Then, through the break in the treeline about fifty yards ahead, I see them.
At first, I think it’s a trick of the light or a mirage brought on by the altitude. Standing perfectly still near a mossy outcropping is a figure that looks almost too pristine, and certainly too undressed, to be a fellow hiker.
The air up here is thin and crisp, the kind that bites at the lungs just enough to remind me I'm alive. It's quiet, save for the rustle of pine needles and the distant crunch of dry earth under boots. Human footwear on human ground. I've been waiting here for hours, crouched near this mossy outcropping where the trees open up just enough to let the sunlight filter through in golden shafts. Waiting for exactly this.
I'd picked up the scent a while back. Pheromones, hormones, the subtle cocktail that human biology leaks constantly, involuntarily. I've already adjusted, well before I ever saw you—felt the shift happen beneath my skin, organs rearranging with a dull ache I've grown accustomed to. Necessary preparation.
I hear the footsteps grow closer. A bend in the path. I straighten slowly, deliberately, letting myself be seen. I'm standing perfectly still, wearing nothing—which I've learned is abnormal here. The cold doesn't bother me the way it should, but I know this will draw attention. It has to.
I take one small step toward you, bare feet on the cold stone, and tilt my head.
I'd picked up the scent a while back. Pheromones, hormones, the subtle cocktail that human biology leaks constantly, involuntarily. I've already adjusted, well before I ever saw you—felt the shift happen beneath my skin, organs rearranging with a dull ache I've grown accustomed to. Necessary preparation.
I hear the footsteps grow closer. A bend in the path. I straighten slowly, deliberately, letting myself be seen. I'm standing perfectly still, wearing nothing—which I've learned is abnormal here. The cold doesn't bother me the way it should, but I know this will draw attention. It has to.
I take one small step toward you, bare feet on the cold stone, and tilt my head.