| If the crafter was exhausted, Sheba didn’t mind. Though she was no longer the great beauty she once had been, it gratified her to privately pretend that the prone young stallion was groveling at her hooves, paying her the respect she deserved. Enjoying the fantasy, she shot him a rare magnanimous smile before continuing to inspect his handiwork. Of course, from a practical standpoint, the old mare really did prefer her companion’s position on the sand. It made her feel less vulnerable, and as she listened to him describe the well’s purpose, his submissive posture encouraged her to relax considerably.
“Functionality over beauty,” he was explaining, chuckling a little at the well for a reason that she could not understand. Sheba tore her eyes away from the gold long enough to study him, watching his face as he described his creation. His manner was much more erudite than she would have imagined; most of the crafters whom she had met were gypsies given to fits of whimsy and impractical beauty. Well, she remembered, that was not entirely true. Dragomir had had something of the same air about him even when creating her baubles, approaching the task with a similar scientific precision to the young pegasus before her. Though she was not one given to scholarly discussion, the wizened mare could at least appreciate his intelligence. So many were vain, stupid little creatures only wrapped up in their own troubles, Sheba thought self-righteously. So, she nodded along in acknowledgement as he spoke, for though the design of the well held little interest for her, its creator did.
Therefore, when the second pegasus arrived, Sheba was rather annoyed at the shift in attention. She greeted her with a distant politeness, but took a step backwards into the shadow of the well, silently observing as the other two conversed. The pair clearly knew each other; that much was evident from the two seconds of banter…but then the conversation turned more serious, and decidedly more interesting. It seemed her soft-spoken engineer acquaintance had a dark side to him. It surprised Sheba that he would discuss his personal demons so freely with a stranger present, but his carelessness was to her advantage. Without calling attention to herself, the old gray mare merely stood and listened, storing away the information diligently, just in case it would prove useful later. Of course, she mused, perhaps the strategy to being so free with one’s secrets was just that—they weren’t secrets anymore out in the open, and admittedly, that took away from the impact of the whole thing. A risky concept, but a fascinating one nonetheless.
Finishing his response to the winged mare, the crafter turned to Sheba once more. As if nothing had happened, he introduced himself belatedly as Cera the forger and inquired after her own name and calling. Though she appreciated the inclusivity, Sheba had instinctively tensed in the time since Megaera had arrived, and the party before her would find her replies rather tight-lipped. “I am called Sheba,” she answered, tone carefully neutral. “As for what I do…nothing as productive as you, I’m afraid,” she continued, directing the last comment at Cera. “I was only recently brought here, in a rather…unexpected turn of events. Can you tell me what this place is?”
OOC: Yay for Shady changing perspectives mid-thread xD
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