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For all of the wisdom that the girl boasts she has, for all of her inklings and foresight, she has missed the arrival of the dark duo. What does that say about her? On the one hand, we might look at her track record. Is she normally sensitive to the appearance of others? Does she normally know when others are within her immediate vicinity? If yes, well then ... it seems being observant comes with a threshold of error. If it can be the case that one can be said to have heightened senses, it is not contradictory to suggest that those senses can be mislead occasionally. The same way one might say that vision is not impaired when one observes a straight stick to be bent when placed in water, we don't need to chastise Isopia's senses as being unreliable, or being used unreliably. She has simply missed Knox and Manhattan. The girl begins to sing to herself as she goes about her task. Her voice is not necessarily beautiful or lovely, but nor is it horrid to the ears. She's merely okay at it. It is why she doesn't sing in front of others. The demi-child doesn't understand why her voice is not pure and perfect. She understands how music words and how her vocal chords produce sound - she knows when the notes the she sings are slightly sharp or flat, and yet her mind - for all of its vastness and greatness - is helpless to correct her errors. She sings notes wrong, and the errors scream in her ears. Still, she likes to sing. Perhaps that is part of the reason why she keeps it to herself, so that she can better cherish it. Words fall out of her lips, rising and falling in a pleasing enough melody, as the girl gets to work. Her long eyelashes flutter as they close over golden eyes. She has found that her magic works best when she concentrates - when she can really picture what it is she wants to make - and blotting out the world seems to help. So she does - she stands perfectly still, with her mismatched wings against her sides, breathing evenly. In her mind she pictures a container, made of stone. It needs to hold water from the pond, so while she knows she cannot make it airtight, she can at least make it tall enough and hollow so that the water won't spill out. The longer she remains stationary, the quicker her other magic begins to take hold. Her hooves begin to grow roots - or at least seem to - as moss and grasses begin to grow up her impossibly long forelegs. They weave themselves around her knees, as if she is some long forgotten statue slowly being pulled back into the air. Isopia doesn't seem to mind. She is picturing her container. The earth before her rumbles, rock shoves its way through the soil and begins to spin before her closed eyes. It begins to roughly take the shape of the container that she has in the mind. The container for the water. And still, she does not notice them. [Call it mid morning - 10am ish. but given how dense the trees are, I imagine the forest is fairly dark with a few sunbeams poking through.] Isopia
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
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