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06-24-2012, 09:04 PM
With gratification the svelte flutes heard the elusively playful tones crafted by the femme, though she was concerned for a fraction of a second that her query might not be fulfilled, that they would dance the dance of hidden identities a while longer. But a name was bequeathed, her ears gladly accepting the favour, her tiara inclining an inch to show her appreciation. The miniscule hint of a breeze was a welcome gift too, offering a fleeting reprieve from the tyrannical heat, though soon enough the wrath of the Sun God was experienced in full. The pegasus’ open observation of Akaith caused a puff of smoke to rise from the reptile’s nostrils, not in a threatening manner, but merely playing on the compliments given. “Indeed, I am.” The exotic curl of her voice crafted the words of agreement; not a day went by that the mare did not feel grateful for the moment of impression that bonded her to the gleaming creature. “Mirage is my name.” As her name was uttered, a cloak fell over her bodice, and while Akaith remained in focus, she appeared to be sitting atop a blurry, flickering memory of a shadowy little mare. It only lasted the breath of her name, however, and soon she was standing in her entirety before the crème maiden once more. “Some also call me their Weyrleader.” She was interested to know how the other would react – silently she even admitted that she longed to speak more of the Qian, to see if the fair creature showed a heart suited to the ways of her group. “I am pleased you find me more trustworthy than the breeze to be a keeper of your name.” The obsidian creature stepped forward, shrinking the distance that still existed between herself and the other, the curl of her nape and tilt of her cranium inviting the mare to share in the action. She directed her neat hooves to a path that led further away from the edge of the lands, towards the Thistle Meadow, silently hoping that her new winged acquaintance would accompany her upon her pale hooves, and not enlist her glorious wings to take to the skies above. With ease she welcomed whatever might come, merely enjoying the silence of their companionship or subtly enticing more words to be spoken by Couth – either action was agreeable to the charred femme. |
