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06-05-2013, 05:11 PM
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CIRCE Circe allowed her ear to twitch in idle acknowledgement as her roan lady answered her greeting—Madam, she said—and the shadowmere allowed her heavily lidded eyes to soften somewhat, emerging from the fragile pane of apathy she erected about herself these days. There was no reason for her to keep her defenses erected in the presence of a docile stranger—at least, she seemed docile at this current moment—and with company came the chance for release from the horrors of her current ideals. Circe welcomed that, and allowed a small smile to play about her lips as she briefly studied her companion; this quiet grin was transferred to the ghost of a shadow that swiftly approached, a large woman with the heavy wings of a nightmare raven perched elegantly on her back. To Circe, both of these ladies were travel-worn voyagers, caught between the rock of Frostfall and the hard place of nightfall. Perhaps both of them had lost their way, or mayhaps they were simply searching for a better life, a fresh start in the infamous isle of Helovia. There was no way of knowing their true affinities and factions; this, the Theshold, was a neutral territory down to the roots that coiled and weaved in the frozen ground beneath them. Regardless, Circe was not one to judge on first meet—and in her current state of sedation, she didn’t wish to. For all intents and purposes, she simply didn’t care. *“Are you from this land?”* “No,” Circe said quietly, continuing to walk underneath he snow-laden canopies of the forest; she hoped her companions would do the same and follow, “I was a traveler through these woods, as you might be yourself. Yet I found myself a home here just the same.” She paused, allowing her husky purr of a voice to dissipate in the thick shadows of the falling night. With the darkness came an even more persistent chill; Circe snorted, feeling the freezing air numb her lungs and throat as she breathed. With another flick of her ear, Circe allowed her voice to rise somewhat in an inquiring lilt. “Tell me,” she said, her gaze flicking first to the ruby eyes of the appaloosa lady and the blood-red orbs of the black temptress, “Do either of you have a place of refuge for tonight? For it is cold and shadows tend to walk at night.” Was this the beginning of an offer for them to join the ranks of the Grey? Was it the offer to point out the other herds of interest, sending them on their way to escape the bitter night chill? It certainly tasted as such… Or was Circe just being vigilant, making sure these two didn’t find themselves in a heap of trouble, or becoming a heap of trouble in their own rights? Whatever the case may be, Circe found that she wasn’t too impassioned by the path of her interactions— she was doing a duty, and that was that. Besides, on a personal level, she was growing to appreciate the distraction from the whirling of her own thoughts. It was nice to meet others for the sake of meeting them, instead of meeting them for battle. |
