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10-04-2014, 11:59 AM
Beloved and Panzram, mentally repeats the golden one as she filters her eyes over them once more. The male of the pair seems offended that his companion was previously unknown to her – it draws a smirk to her lips, one that is cleverly crafted to appear benign and welcoming though it was rather one of amusement at the situation. It wasn’t uncommon for her to come across two strangers to her at her borders, one of whom was a new member seeking to impress the leads they had joined, but that one of them was so offended by it was funny in a way she couldn’t quite pinpoint. He’d looked at her quite heavily on her approach, she’d taken note of, but who could blame him? She was pretty, even with two children to care for and a herd to watch over, numerous scars lining her body from defending herself and the honor of her kin, and she took great pride in it; that she was still dirty from the days work before and barren of her charms and armor was all the more flattering. Kyst likes that he looks at her, too. For a moment, their emotional tether hums with satisfied, purring egos. More questions are answered when Thranduil slips into the conversation, and her eyes once again flash with a personal amusement; the white one hadn’t fooled poor Panzram on her own, and that the golden boy was involved was of no surprise to the Gilded Blade. He’d made himself quite a reputation the very day he’d arrived; she could expect no less of him to continue to do so. That both of the puppets already among the snow having spoken so well of her herd land, another swelling of her oversized head glints through her golden gaze and broadens her smile, and delighted nod shared with the insane one before she looks back to the newer of the pair. "We are the largest, as far as my eyes have seen," she replies, "nearly fifty walk the valley, and you have seen the fortifications of the hold for yourself." She leans as if to look down the path and out to the crack in the rock, then settles back into the shadow of the sentinel with a slightly devious grin on her face. She adores her bronze mechanisms of war so dearly. "Tell me of yourselves, Panzram, Beloved," the golden one says sweetly, glancing from one to the other as they are mentioned, "what are your skills?" Illynx |
