[---]
After a bit she concluded: Well, this girl is going to be okay, so she returned her attention through an alabaster head back to the mare with the wolf. Even after their proper introductions, somehow Maren couldn't help feeling like she was still looking looking at her through a layer of mist. The gold in her gaze fell quiet as she glanced back at the dark bay. Sure, her words were true, logically correct but would've lacked a point if it hadn't been for her bitter tone lining it. "That's why they call it trust." she said, suddenly sinking away into a frown. But what? What is it that your bitter tones point towards? She sounded like she had either climbed trees to high for her to climb, and fallen, or she had climbed a tree and trusted branches to hold her weight, but couldn't and had fallen. "I want to hear your story," because she was always interested in story's. As long as they held meaning to the speaker, at least - and many other vital components. (One who wishes to learn could, after all, never be too critical.)
Her glance fell on the Dragon's Throat, resting sleepily on the horizon as the ocean pulled itself around it. "Why not walk for a bit," she finally said. And without further ado the priestess hooves started dragging themselves through the heavy sand, autumn wind following in her hoof prints. The beach, sun-washed and golden, warm, although she knew it was even warmer on the island. Still, now that summer had gone it had gotten a lot easier to endure - could even say it was nice. Now she was only quietly left wondering if the girl and the snowy white wolf would think that, too.
Talking
Notes: @[Essetia] my next reply will be much and much quicker ; v ;
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