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everything I touch turns to ash Odd coloured eyes finally spotted movement in the misted tree line, pierced ears perked forward in her interest. She hoped it was either Tembovu, or the alabaster Filly she also wanted to see. The Amazonian had never had any particularly strong bonds in her life time, in part it was her fault for being so flighty. So caught up with the need to explore and escape, to see and hear all that happened outside of Helovia. It left very little in her head and heart for matters of the friendship kind, and even less for the road of romance. The few friends that had peppered her life had been meaningful, but they were no more ghosts on the wind now she had returned home. Home, like a phoenix, she would rise from her own ashen past and into a glorious future. The Warrioress would work on her flaws, one by one, and it started with forging friendships of steel and iron. Nephele was eventually rewarded with the sight of Erthë, and a colossal wave of relief washed over her obsidian hide. She had survived, but she had been scarred — the limp she spied had not been so severe the last time she had gazed upon her spindly frame. Which, now she noticed, had began to catch it's second wind. She looked as though she'd been shaped from the very mist she emerged from. Grace and light, opposed to the ash and fire that forged Nephele's hide. Erthë's smile was returned, now it was apparent the younger had remembered her. "And I see the sheer winds of the Edge have not blown you away." She quipped back, tone light hearted in response to the jest thrown her way. "How could I pay a visit to the Edge and not see how you were?" She responded, hip cocked out to the side with a flick of her tail. "After all, I did say I would give you a flying lesson, if the wind hadn't beaten me to it." Blackened and newly pierced muzzle extended to meet the much more delicate on presented in a greeting, satisfied at least, that her worries of Erthë's safety had been put to rest. Hugs may have not been on the cards, but this was better than the skeptical and condescending glances they had passed one another the last time they had met. It wasn't long after, that Tembovu made his appearance and with it, he commanded Nephele's attention. Broad crested neck lifted so she could better look at the King of the Edge. Ah, King, she couldn't deny that the title suited him well — though she would confess she saw him on a backdrop of Savannah grasses and thorn trees lush with thriving leaves rather than pine forest and sheer cliffs. Still, she is happy to see him, and see that he is well. She elected to ignore the sensation of fluttering within her breast, lest it make her seem six years younger than she currently was. She was thankful, though, that her pelt was dark enough to hide any kind of blush that had made it's way onto her face. Nephele, Warrioress of the Throat, weak kneed at the mere sight of elephantine kings. The humored thought is brushed from her, like dust from her back, with a snort of her pierced nostrils. "Hello, Tembovu. The Throat has treated me well, I've learned much during my short time there." She nodded, her muzzle extended once more in greeting to bump against his. "I did say once I was settled, I would come pay you both a visit." A note of amusement is laced in her voice, had he forgotten? "I would of come sooner, if it wasn't for the trouble on the Isles." The Warriores faltered in her smile and happiness, she had come off light in comparison to the others who fought that day. So she moved on quickly from the darker topic, she wiped it from her brow like a bead of sweat and replaced the grimace with another soft look. It wasn't for her own sake that she moved it on, but for the pale one in their company, she didn't want to dredge up bad memories. "Little birds have told me that someone became King while I was off being a Warrior in the Desert." She stated, smirk making an appearance on her chiseled features. "Congratulations." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "talk talk talk" |
@Tembovu @Erthë
“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”
― Terry Pratchett
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