.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
11-17-2014, 12:55 PM
@[Bucephalus]
 When his ears bend to her voice you can hear her smile on the soft wind. She's delighted know she's not boring him just yet. Her eyes catch the glimmer of silver against his risen feathers, her gaze slides to match his and she's filled with a moment of alarm. The air changes and becomes sharper, her bird can feel it (not in a magical way, just observant) and he swiftly swoops down the to her withers; his cold beady stare stone-set onto the pegasus. The taut intensity dissipates with the next breeze and her muscles loosen under the pale raven. He too relaxes, but does not ascend back up into the trees. Instead he settles, ruffling then smoothing his feathers and letting his eyes close. I promise you though, he is listening very carefully. She lets him talk while she continues to stare. Her expression has melted back into innocent wonderment, as it normally is. She nods quietly as he talks of the lights and the Steppe, she can feel the reminder of the Basin tingling in her bones. Tangere's chocolate eyes close with the reminiscences of the past, but quickly flutters those white eyelashes and comes back to reality. “The north is indeed a wonderful place.” She inserts her concurrence subtly, as to not interrupt him. His next question makes a giggle erupt from her chest, her slender pony-face curling inward with playful embarassment. “Do I seem that fragile, my friend?” She omits a confident chuckle, “Perhaps I can escort you home, if you're traveling by foot of course.” His joke about his wings brings more sugared glee out of her, the evidence being in her eyes and the delicate notes of her voice. “I wouldn't let it happen, my new friend; I'm not nearly as helpless as I appear.” This time her grin is mischievous and her glassy eyes tighten, narrowing with devilishness that fades as quickly as it appears. She moves her position, closing in and moving to the left. Still, they are comfortably separated by a few generous feet. “Your offer flatters me so,” She meets his gaze again, her demeanor much more softened than in recent previous moments. “Quite kind of you, really.” His charm is something she will enjoy if they may become close friends. She thinks this to herself as her ears lean back into his smooth, depthy voice. “Oh,” The bird jolts awake, “We're not sure, but it was something dark and brooding with evil.” Her gaze casts toward the empty shadows of the surrounding skeleton trees. Phrixus takes flight and lands on a nearby branch, looking down onto their backs for a second or two before leading his observations away to other commotions in the night. “I haven't the slightest clue what is was or what caused it, I'm only positive it is gone for good and I'm glad of it.” Her skin twitches with the reoccurring thought, surely she wasn't into divulging into the details.. Abruptly her cheeky voices pulls up from her chest and bleeds into the cold night air. “Don't be silly, I'm sick of foraging on this bland stuff...” A sudden idea sparks her interest, “I was waiting for some company anyways - in fact, would you know of any good forage still out there?” The south may have something, she ponders it, trying to remember where she's gone in the past besides the Basin (which is oddly plentiful of food even with its cold). She doesn't feel like going home just yet. Maybe Bucephalus has something entertaining to partake in. Her curious eyes peer back to his bags draped around him, she wonders idly what he might have in there. She would be overjoyed to know he's also a weird trinket hoarder like herself; who happens to have random stashes like a trinket collecting squirrel. AND THE DOVE OF HOPE BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE... |
- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
- Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:
