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11-26-2015, 01:14 PM
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Phrixus twitches, cooing to himself as he watches the pair stare at one another – talking in that weird monotone that everyone does when they first meet. Suddenly though the pale bird notices something different, perhaps even strange about the stallion. I mean, there is the obvious things like his blazing bright hair and sugary scent, but here in Helovia you could spend all day questioning weird occurrences like that. Tangere finds it best to let it go but the bird's thoughts are persistent on the stranger's queerness. Her face scrunches with puzzlement when he expresses his utter displeasure. She almost graces the chilly winds with a 'suuure'...but he soon swallows up the silence again. Ah, she nods, grinning as if feeling accomplished at noticing it is the warmth and sunlight that he detests. Still weird, but hey. She's never thought of which season she prefers, the adaptation comes naturally to her, the love for the change in the winds and temperatures. She nods again, blank for words, rather blank for a reaction in general. And then his name. Johnny.. She thinks about it's foreign feel to her thoughts; she's never heard such a name before. The bird breaks her train of thought as he swoops down from above Johnny, grabbing for the pale mare's scarred withers, perching steadily behind her silky thin mane. “I suppose if you prefer the coldness, then yes, this is repulsive – appalling conditions.” She chuckles at herself trying to share his emotional detachment from the weather conditions. “But those, those big cold stone bones up there,” She gestures toward the snowy mountains, jagged and shiny against the burning sunlight. They serrate the sharp blue of the open sky, only a few clouds to keep them company int heir melting phases. “It's still cool out there, though I do not recommend venturing passed the base of those mountains – you'll tumble down rather quickly.” The spine of mountains that are the Steppe's backbone. She recalls the first and last time she attempted to climb when the snows were disintegrated. Even with her surefooted cloven toes she almost fell to her death, or at least to four broken legs...which is another term for death. “But really...” She lets her wide chocolate eyes settle on his pale face, “It is only a matter of months until it is all cold again.” She has never noticed the nice feeling it brings to think of the Basin in it's frozen splendor once again. The bright ribbons of light curling and waving above the bone-white ground and it's puddle of un-freezing mirror water. “A weaver, huh?” She comments quietly. Placing it somewhere in there, between names and mountain talk. “I am a simple healer, under Lena.” She's never really met anyone but the children, the other healers and the leaders.  |
weird post and sorry for the wait my dear :3
@Johnny
- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
- Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:
