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07-19-2016, 08:56 AM
Syrena
let the water take me
The seal-gray mare is greeted only by the trill of the bronze dragon, and she manages a nod toward the creature. Manners and all that. It’s not like she didn’t know them (she used to live on her sheer ability to lure men, after all), though she simply wasn’t the best about using them. It takes conscious thought and effort on her part, which is sometimes simply too much work. But this mare…well. Maybe she knows manners. Maybe she doesn’t.
The mare does turn to face Syrena, and it’s unusual for the siren to feel so damn short. Not that she’s particularly large, but she’s not particularly small either. It’s pretty rare that someone, and particularly a female, towers quite so damn high above her. Honestly, it’s a little unsettling, not that Syrena lets this show on her impassive face. Sometimes her general lack of emotion is a blessing. Probably also because she’s not that annoyed when the mare just stares. Except for the occasional, slow, and deliberate blink. Okay, that part is annoying.
“Alright, so no pleasantries,” she says in that deadpan voice. If someone were watching this conversation, it’s probably hilarious from the outside. But Syrena seems unperturbed by the giant mare’s silence. If she gets to play blunt and just go for it, all the damn better. She wasn’t much for pleasantries, after all, but so many insisted on them that she keeps dusting them off and throwing them to the wind.
She takes a moment, trying to think what she knows of the residents around here. Which, really, is a shocking lack given that she’s lived here twice, but she’s pretending the first time didn’t happen. But if she had to hazard a guess, there’s only one mare that comes to mind. “I’m new, so forgive me,” it’s rather clear she doesn’t actually mean that, but she says it anyway, “but names aren’t my best skill right now. Though let me guess. Isopia? And if so, I was hoping to talk to you about your job here. Cause it turns out I need to pick one, and I can’t decide between yours and crafting. So I wanted to ask what you do and what sort of help, if any, you’d want.”
There. That seemed like more than enough information. Like really, too much, actually. But hopefully somewhere in there she’d warranted a response. Even if that response was “No, dumbass, I’m not Isopia but you can find her over there.” Or whatever. Syrena barely saw a soul around this place (semi-her fault), so she’d take whatever she could get in way of information.
"words"
The mare does turn to face Syrena, and it’s unusual for the siren to feel so damn short. Not that she’s particularly large, but she’s not particularly small either. It’s pretty rare that someone, and particularly a female, towers quite so damn high above her. Honestly, it’s a little unsettling, not that Syrena lets this show on her impassive face. Sometimes her general lack of emotion is a blessing. Probably also because she’s not that annoyed when the mare just stares. Except for the occasional, slow, and deliberate blink. Okay, that part is annoying.
“Alright, so no pleasantries,” she says in that deadpan voice. If someone were watching this conversation, it’s probably hilarious from the outside. But Syrena seems unperturbed by the giant mare’s silence. If she gets to play blunt and just go for it, all the damn better. She wasn’t much for pleasantries, after all, but so many insisted on them that she keeps dusting them off and throwing them to the wind.
She takes a moment, trying to think what she knows of the residents around here. Which, really, is a shocking lack given that she’s lived here twice, but she’s pretending the first time didn’t happen. But if she had to hazard a guess, there’s only one mare that comes to mind. “I’m new, so forgive me,” it’s rather clear she doesn’t actually mean that, but she says it anyway, “but names aren’t my best skill right now. Though let me guess. Isopia? And if so, I was hoping to talk to you about your job here. Cause it turns out I need to pick one, and I can’t decide between yours and crafting. So I wanted to ask what you do and what sort of help, if any, you’d want.”
There. That seemed like more than enough information. Like really, too much, actually. But hopefully somewhere in there she’d warranted a response. Even if that response was “No, dumbass, I’m not Isopia but you can find her over there.” Or whatever. Syrena barely saw a soul around this place (semi-her fault), so she’d take whatever she could get in way of information.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart
@Isopia - Hahaha, I find this hilarious, actually.
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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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