While waiting the arrival of anyone who might come, the girl listened to the soft crashing of waves upon the cliff bottoms. The sound no longer fueled her nightmares, no longer made her stop and shudder in reaction, but if she thought long and hard enough about it she could still see Antheia walking of the cliff. Love, Antheia. What an odd thing to say just before your death. But what the painted girl had first experienced as grief, and then as terrible anger at the woman for just leaving her like that, she now simply experienced as memory. It was nice, to be able to think of the cliffs as friend again, and not foe.

However, her thoughts did not have to wander very long. It took little time for Dragomir to appear, the painted stallion seeming to part the trees as he neared her. And as he stood before her, silent as a stone, Kahlua cocked her head to the side and nickered softly in greeting. It was followed shortly thereafter by a chortling sound that seemed to break him from his silent, for he bowed his head and spoke. Miss Kahlua. Always so formal. “Mister Dragomir,” she countered brightly, shaking her mane to resettle it on her neck.

Though still eerily similar to Fuhrer’s voice, the girl no longer felt heart pangs every time her pupil spoke. Just one more thing the girl was learning to live with. The crash of the waves, the sounds of his voice, becoming a teacher… was the girl finally beginning to grow up? She would deny it vehemently if asked.

As his eyes settled upon the metal creature on top of her head, she bobbed her head, setting the thing to clicking and whirring some more as its legs moved to stay hooked into her forelock and flesh. “When I gave the scorpion statue to the Basin. A crafter there gifted it to me,” she still didn’t know Ulrik’s name. She’d forgotten to ask. Perhaps there was some secret motive to the thing he had given her, but if there was Kahlua was unaware of it. She just thought the thing a cute little toy to carry around.

Still, idle chatter aside, the girl really needed to get started on the gift for the foal. Closing her eyes for a few moments, getting a good picture of the thing in her head, the girl opened her eyes and began to work. Dragomir had seen her craft before, so hopefully the sudden rush of the mists around her body would not unsettle him. “A commission for Shadow of the Throat,” she murmured as the mists began to solidify, slowly, into a glass chain. Every few links, a larger circle would form, the mists swallowing up one of the blue stones and solidifying it within the glass circle.

“Lace said you should always have a clear image of what you are working on, in your head, before you start. Be able to turn it, flip it, rotate it...” She trailed off for a moment as she kept working, waiting for him to add anything. Being teacher really was awkward to the girl, but she was trying. In her head, she made a checklist of things to say to him, but none of them seemed helpful right now. “The glass stones seem to be affected by the magic as well, but nothing else that I have tried,” she added then, looking to him, her eyes seeming to say ‘do you have any questions.’ Before her, the pretty glass piece continued to grow, the scorpion atop her head clicking and whining as it watched the scene unfold.


@[Dragomir]- Just tagging so you saw I moved this to the shadowlands!!