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03-04-2017, 06:20 PM
She tried to curb the feeling of disapproval as several of the members only seemed intrigued by things beyond medicinal properties. The Songbird often yielded away from judgment: many had undergone predicaments, trials, tribulations, histories she couldn’t understand or begin to fathom, but she’d never yearn to twist her mind into delusions, into hallucinations, into fits of imagined grandeur to get away from reality – so only a mild frown embedded itself along her features, cast off as quickly as it was curved due to Tiamat’s welcoming, amiable disposition, and Johnny’s appearance. She nodded to Mortuus, imploring him to continue his discussion, because in a way it aided others (and she could attempt to ignore the sway towards psychedelics), granting one more grin towards him and the candied Johnny. At the very least, the once-demon had become very knowledgeable in his chosen ranking and title, and that alone should’ve been admired – he’d come such a long ways, and she was proud of his accomplishments. However, her mind turned readily to Albrecht again, who seemed incapable of remaining whole, either due to age, actions, or antics. She listened to his joints pop, to the odd, clicking noise settling along his hocks, and nearly sighed – but kept that feeling bottled up too. She didn’t ask how he’d received this particular injury, presuming nothing since their latest venture in a meadow of clover, and only inclined a light hum through her throat. It rallied in a soft, dulcet rhapsody, threading its way towards the elderly impersonator, gathering liberation and deliverance in its humble wake, intending to relieve, to soothe, to assuage what’d been strained. If anyone noticed, she said naught, merely reclining back into her radiant grin, into her heavenly aura, into her enigmatic, elegant refinement, and acted as if she were none the wiser. |
Image Credits
@Albrecht
