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11-19-2016, 04:35 PM
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Sohalia was so absorbed in her own observations that she didn't notice his. As such, the stallion likely had a much more open view into the mare before him than he might have otherwise. Her guard slipped, revealing a genuine curiosity behind bi-colored eyes that could still light with excitement. Her lips parted ever-so-slightly as her brows creased, her concentration on the flask evident in every line of her face. With Tarik's confession that the place of its origin no longer existed, Sohalia glanced up at him and, despite finding his face rather closer than she'd expected, nodded thoughtfully. "That is a shame," she commented softly, mourning for the loss of such beautiful potential in the world. "But perhaps... with the right materials..." She trailed off, absorbed in her own mind. That the flask was beautiful was interesting in and of itself, but that it was bottomless - well, that was another thing altogether. At first, the mare's brows bunched together. A bottomless flask of that drink called rum that could be dangerous in large quantities? She didn't like it in her homeland, among her kin. But then, all of a sudden, a thought occurred and her brows shot up and she could help but toss her head in her sudden excitement. She could craft a flask, or a bowl, or any container, really, and with the right motivation, the gods might see fit to enchant it to hold limitless amounts of water. And water, in the desert, was a commodity in short supply at times. "Oh, you've given me the most wonderful idea!" the pale lady exclaimed, breathless and laughing. For not the first time, she was stricken by how easy it was to feel joy these days, when but a month ago she was convinced that darkness would keep its hold on her forever. As they say, time heals all wounds. There would always be scars, but they all had those, didn't they? Still the flask was offered, the smell of something sweet and sharp drifting through the air towards her. There would be time enough to discuss her plans later with Aithniel, and so she set them aside for now. "I suppose a sip wouldn't hurt," she said, almost to herself, and then she carefully took the flask from her companion and tilted it back for a rather larger swig than she'd intended. The immediate effect was evident: she almost dropped the container, shoving it back at Tarik just in time for a coughing fit to take over. Her eyes watered as she stepped back, turning her head away and trying to keep from retching. Her throat was on fire, a bitter taste in the back of her mouth, and oh gods, when would it stop? But, as all unpleasant things do, the sensation passed. Wheezing, she turned her head to glare at the stallion. "What is in that rum?" she demanded, feeling rather humiliated and taken advantage of, for surely he'd offered it to her in some sort of sick jest? But now that the worst of the bite was gone, the mare found that the light, cinnamon taste left behind wasn't all bad. And the way that the drink had burned going down had left her feeling quite a bit warmer than she had a moment ago. Her glare lightened slightly. Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she tried again? Maybe she just hadn't been prepared enough the first time? With a huff, she tried to take the flask again, this time (if she succeeded), being more careful about the way she took a drink. With a smaller sip, the fire was easier to take (though no more pleasant, truth be told), and when she'd downed the swallow, she was left even warmer than before. "Why does anyone drink this?" she mused aloud, and her voice sounded kind of far away. She didn't notice that she still held the flask, nor that she took another curious sip as she waited for a response. "Talk talk talk." @Tarik |
| Sohalia I built this city just to bring it to its knees |
