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Midas The Sultan confirms their need; politely my mason stepped aside to fashion what they required. I watched the young mother trail off, admiration and appreciation gentled the hard worry lines on my face. Tis refreshing to see someone take time out of a busy day to accomplish a selfless task. Neve uses this momentary lapse in our conversation to chatter anxiously, attempting to catch the frosty eye of Elsa's male companion. My brother broaches a question, aye. "We are fine," a reply that would've been less formal had we meet without so many unneeded ears close at hoof. "Birdsong brings new life," I turn to them, abandoning our crafter to complete her job without prying eyes hovering, "The warmth ushers us young additions," tis well known that the desert stag was no stranger to children, "yar, but even as life is given, some is taken." Tone is soft to mask the sharp pinch that constricts my heart, "We suffered a loss," the pink folds of my throat tighten, I try swallowing that sudden dryness away, "Seele died." Thankfully I wouldn't have to dwell long before Elsa returned with a sunstone. She looked to me for approval, dark crown dipped into a passive nod but my attention is already sweeping the expressions of our company for a reaction of satisfaction or discontent. The chancellor seems pleased, he tucks the item away. Bottomless gems soften, "Thank ye, Elsa." I turn to her for a moment, offering the pale one a kind smile. Perhaps the most genuine one I'm capable of giving. Glancing toward Guacho I add, "Has Satanic Silk returned to the desert?" If so, he should have reported Africa's whereabouts.  Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold |
@Guacho
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