surely as the sun will rise

surely as the sun will rise

Saphiron Posts: N/A

Unregistered

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03-31-2014, 08:17 PM

In a matter of moments, she manages to school her features, a Herculean feat for one so expressive and open as herself.

Then it instantly shatters upon seeing Kiara. "Hi," she coos in a high clarion pitch. She is about to pour on the fawning for small animals, but he is moving on, answering her question, as any proper gentleman would. She owed him the same courtesy of acute attention. Steadily working her jaw, she mulls over his words as come.

Then it's Abishia's turn to offer her opinion; it's granted the same honest audience. The warning of Aurora Basin ensnares her, though, as it would any vivacious little detective.

Evil always finds you.

At that, she looks around fearfully. When she realizes no one else was reacting to the disembodied voice howling over the wind, she internalizes her reaction, taking a moment to process it. Interim, it appears she has shut down and out of the trio's conversation as the other two turn to one another. Worry twists the architecture of her countenance. That sounded like one of the vestals that took her mother in when she was noticably pregnant and subsequently exiled from her position as an oracle elsewhere. The broad was a hateful hag that sought to scare Saphiron into obedience. The memory drops a sour egg in her stomach.

It's in her little trace that Note happens to arrive, boldly placing himself within an intimate proximity to her. It brings her out of her fit of contemplation in a slow, sticky pull, which prevents her from being startled.

"Duly noted, Abishia," she drawls, finding her words again. Of course, it's said in such a way that she intends to ignore the cautioning and go find out for herself what these folk were about.

An upward puff of smokey vapor lifts a few of Note's mingling strands, up and away from her lean face. She doesn't even attempt to obscure the baleful glare that tries to pin him in place, as hard and deathly cold as the serpent of river ice that lays beyond them. But his suggestion as to how she would leave with him smooths her minor irritation over. The fun way? Pavlov would have had a field day with her, for she perks right up at the mention of the sacred f-word. "Huh.... You don't say?" He gets a heavy once-over, where she takes her precious time in scrutinizing him. The heat of her gaze traces each cliff and valley carved out of a mountain of a stallion to create the fine beast that stands so close to her. She can feel his warmth. It's unnerving. She breathes out shakily. What the hell was this place? First an ashen dappled stallion with the body of a war god and thick somber hair so much as noticed her, then a dazzling muse masquerading around as willowy mare dropped by. Now this other pegasus, as dark as the first stranger to greet her.

Feathers pushed against feathers, the nerves in the base of hers suddenly going haywire at the contact, makes her suffer another quake for an entirely different reason than the first two that shook her like a ragdoll. It wasn't exactly a pleasant sensation- really, more odd, as they're almost too sensitive. With a habitual shake of her head, lamplight eyes with their soft hearth glow momentarily barred from the world. It grants her clarity.

"Hello, Note," she murmurs quietly, but loud enough for the others to easily pick up, her mouth forming the words with precise deliberation. "And oh, my. How very pretty! It's nice to meet you, Sabel." She noses at the lynx very tenderly, the fine black skin of her muzzle only an inch or two away from the wildcat, radiating a sense of pure joy that was absent before the knowledge of these two companions' existence entered into her life.

Thawed by his interest and the presence of an adorable feline, she slides him a mischvious little smile that only tugs on one corner of her lips. It's to everyone she addresses when she finally gives up her name: "Saphiron, or Saph. Whatever works. ... I have to thank you all, you've been too kind. I'm happy to say I've made some friends today. I think I'd like to go find out what this fun is that Note speaks of, however, but this certainly isn't the end."

She should pick what seemed like the safer option. Namely the other female whose pleasant disposition plucked at Saphiron's prickly little heart, or the stately unicorn whose radial calm promised tranquility. She was being honest when she admitted, so many words, that she followed her relentless desire to pick the bumpier road.

But it also had a little bit to do with an affinity she felt for Note, as a fellow winged equine. In a foreign land, it reminded her of home, far away and high above mountain tops.