.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
08-07-2014, 10:19 AM
The cat looks up at her with those eyes that seem to see everything as they always do, the same curious wonder striking her as to where that inner fierceness stems from rising once more into her thoughts before slipping away behind the throaty purr of the tiger’s voice as she returns words. The Lady’s smile dawns all the more brightly, pleased that she has been correct in assuming that this was an intelligent creature and not one of the dumb beasts that haunted the surface of Loorien with partial souls and dreamless minds. Illynx catches her name, Saffron, and thinks of the purple flowers called by the same name, seeing little correlation between the bloom and the tiger at immediate glance. It is likely just a name, as many are, something her dam found pretty or that she selected herself, if she had lived a life like Aithniel. As she had discovered in her last encounter with a tiger, the female is of few words and many more stares, but the unicorn is undaunted, too used to the stoic or cold demeanors of her herd mates to be distressed by the lack luster conversational skills of the dormant cat. Not all could be linguists, after all, and their lack of talent in the field made Illynx all the more glorious in lieu of their failures. "I am surprised no others have beat me to the opportunity to make your acquaintance. We do not see many of your kind in this land, you see," she carries on the conversation as if the tigress is an old friend remembered from youth, the light hearted nature of her words accented by the jovial enrichment that saturates each note, "I have lived here many years and only met one other like you… well, as like you as I will ever get, I am sure." She smiles, a humorous thing that lights her eyes up. "He was white, like the snows of my home," she takes a short breath for dramatic effect, running her eyes across the build of the feline and hoping that, like most things, she was susceptible to gentle strokes of the ego, "but it is surely delightful to see such splendid color rather than the muted pallet of that one." Turning to look out over the trees at the position of the sun to see how long she could dally in conversation to avoid the darkness falling on them should the cat decide to accompany her, the Lady ponders over a way to elude to such things in the short silence that elapses the end of her rambling about Cin - a tiger that Saffron surely did not know or care about. "Do you seek a home, Saffron?" she asks, going the route that was most obvious, "there are many to be had in Helovia, but none as fine as my own. You seem well suited for the winds and snow of the mountains." |
