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I look from the orange puff of fur to the dark colt and acknowledge their kinship with a small smile. Something about their interaction strikes me as warmly familiar, even though Fluffy doesn’t speak anything more than a bark. If friends are the family you choose, they seem to embody friendship rather admirably. I figure you can never have enough real friends, and if these two are good guys, I think I’d like to stick around. The problem is sorting the real from the fake, but like I said, I’ve rarely met a backstabber or turncoat at night.
As I feel the wet mud of the forest floor grasping at my fetlocks and recall the jolt of branches clawing at my wings, I decide that this Dragons Throat place sounds pretty nice. “Less trees sounds great,” I quip, taking a moment to chuckle at my own joke. My laugh has always been different – deep and full, even when it’s short. I never had one of those girly giggles, nor would I want one. Even if I could, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about myself.
Am I new here? I suppose I am. I guess I’m new everywhere besides my birth home, and honestly, fuck that place. But am I new here new here? Like… new but intending to settle and not be new anymore? I look at Fluffy – Inari, I guess – to try to discern some sign in his bright canine eyes. I don’t see anything, but something about the whole situation feels sort of predestined. I fall through the trees in the dead of night and just so happen to be stumbled upon by these two? Okay, gods. I’ll roll with it.
“I’m Nimue. I just dropped in,” I glance upwards through the dense arbor from which I’d descended ever so gracefully. “Where exactly is here, anyways?” At least my speech seems to be shedding its awkwardness with each sentence. It’s weird to put thoughts into words when you haven’t spoken in a while, but it seems a bit like flying. Once you’ve got it down, it’s not really something you forget.
@[Sacre]
Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold.
