.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
03-06-2014, 01:24 PM
Voltaic eyes scrutinize the paint's gilded face; the grotesque seems disinterested in her, lacking to offer an appropriate response, and the lightning maiden is vaguely irked at this oblivion. Why approach her for company if he was not going to at least attempt at the dull monotony of small talk? How contemptuous she is of him with his hideous scars and blank gaze, the lack of polite condolences and empty apologies; but she holds her tongue. To condemn him for silence when any insincere words of the pegasus' would not comfort her would be at the height of selfish mannerisms. Instead, she lets her attention drift away from him, regal in her wordless condescension, allowing her gaze skip from illusions painted on the soaked walls to the lion itself, a roaring pillar of water that screams defiance to the silence. The daughter of the Ardent is weighted; her gaze is a heavy, solemn thing as she lets it roam, watching the sparkle of water and glisten of damp rock. In this quiet between them, filled only with the shrieks of water plummeting into the pool, perhaps it is unsurprising that she welcomes a change of company— even if it is hindered by the weight of choked tears and misery on a fierce face. Azulee stiffens marginally at the older mare's agreement, suddenly uncertain if her response had been as pertinent as she had deemed; if the mare called herself the fool, was it wrong of her to had led strangely-tattooed woman in that direction? Then she shrugs off her worries without further reasoning. If the mare wanted to call herself a fool, so be it— who was she to stop her? "Everyone can be an idiot sometimes," the lightning maiden parries, with a faint grin tousling her lips, "we all make mistakes... some just make bigger mistakes than others, wouldn't you agree?" The slender slip of a girl watches the stallion who offered her no comfort come nearer; slim ears twist to the scarred, listening to his hollow words, the translucent smile; she harks as the mare's voice hardens to steel, and there is no silk to cloak it, only her hoarse demands. Quiet sapphire eyes drift over to Lee, wondering how he will respond, wondering if she should make peace between them before things might take a turn for the worse. But she is not her mother, keeper of endless, enduring kindness. She is the daughter of the Star-breather and the Ardent, grand-daughter of the Fireslayer and the Weaponmaster, and she will not bend her crown to anyone but those who deserve her loyalty; so far, the surrealistic stallion has done nothing to her that would catch her fleeting heart and feral friendship. Attentions shift and sway, as the unknown mare answers her efforts at courtesy; Azulee counts herself rather fortunate that the mare does not unload troubles onto her shoulders. Her intents were companionship, but she can't say she really wants to know everything about a stranger (and didn't she have enough problems with her family already?) "You're right, but I was trying to be polite," the lightning maiden laughs, a riotous, cheerful sound in this dark and deep place, shunting out of her mind her own misery. Moping around is nothing becoming, she thinks to herself. The maid gives a start, feathers rippling in unfelt wind, as the black mare cries out, wielding her voice like a weapon of choice. A wild mane shakes out over storm-painted shoulders; she draws herself tall. Beside Ampere, she is long-legged and delicate, but she manages to capture some marginal strength in the arch of her imperious neck and the raising of her wings to half-mast. "Of course you can't!" Azulee snaps, her voice blunted and unfettered by civility. "Yet what can we do in these times but stand by and wait for the darkness to fade? We can't fight shadows!" i've got your wild-eyed ways. |
hard mode—HP: 65/65
physical force and magic is permitted to be used on Azulee at any time provided it does not involve powerplay (unless specified otherwise); please contact me before attempting to kill.
please tag me!
