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 Commotion makes for the craftiest camouflage. Even her bright ghostly colors are dulled in the noise and shuffle, the moving of bodies and breath. Her eyes stay with Deimos…for no reason other than curiosity. He disappears without baiting anyone – no one but her, anyways. Phrixus bounces into the air, taking flight and to follow in the stallion’s wake. Tangere get the queue. She slips onto the same path as him, her small split toes grabbing the slush and mud in the same spots as his own footsteps. “Hello, Deimos.” She doesn’t tag his name with his title, they both know who he is. She sidles closer but not affectionately close, leaving a generous space between them, her eyes falling to the same direction as his. Her mind fights the impulse to ask him why he is so miserable about this whole leader change situation. Illynx is clearly fine, not stolen or murdered and Ophelia does not seem so bad, really. She keeps the inquiry under lock for the moment, simply leaving the quietude between them as they stare unto the pine woods and slushy lakeshore. Phrixus has found himself a branch to watch them from, quietly listening as is his usual habit.“Are we ok, Deimos?” If he bothers to look her in the eyes he’ll find her chocolate stare already on him. Somewhere in the middle of her question, which is webbed with a much deeper meaning, she directed her observations to him. She does not lack the general respect that is customary for a leader and his pupil, but her boldness is still evident to her somewhere inside of her jittery little mind. “The Basin, I mean.” Her tender voice adds this last part even though she’s almost positive he has already absorbed her intentions. Birdsong has found the Basin’s edges, melting her blanket into loose, chunky ice puddles. Torn up dirt marks the well travelled pathways winding through the territory, the lake’s edges have almost let go of the rest if their ice shelves and the caves have become slippery and treacherous with the waterfalls of run off making their way down to the lake. The land is waking up after a long, cold slumber. A feeling the silver unicorn can relate to. 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(:
