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 She took her spot atop the shallow, icy hillock. Her ears bend slightly to the sound of his booming hollow voice. She can hear the details of his breath as he exhales the words tightly wound in his eerie, unsettling voice to match those creepy unsettling eyes. She sighs to herself and to her bird just before he takes wing to swoop down to the group and perch in a nearby pine…watching, listening. She watches them gather just as Phrixus has, being dutifully, plentiful little subjects as they should be. She is the outcast tonight – and quite literally. After accepting the position of time mender she then vanished for reasons she will not explain. She would rather take the lashings, she’d rather be the odd one out than spill old history into her unmangled, well managed new version of reality. She descends, joining the crowd of obeying minds and hungry ears, trying to blend easily into them as she squishes in on the side. She’s surely late. Another thing to frown about when it comes to her display of dedication to her government and community. What a bad girl. Pure delinquent, this one. Truthfully though, in the past year or so – mostly after this most recent vacation (we will just call it that…), she has been much less bubble and a lot more prickle. It was there before, the far-away look and the small bouts of suspicion and sarcasm – but it is thicker now. Thick like an accent that sticks to your mouth years after you’ve moved away from it. She focuses her distracted mind back to the words and looks being tossed around. Each thing digesting quickly into the corners and canals of her ever working mind. She unintentionally lets her unfocused stare fall onto Deimos, even when he stops talking, just blankly staring at him while her ears take in the surrounding voices and sighs and fidgeting feet. Ulrik’s voice startles her from her weird listening trance and her eyes dart willfully to his body and familiar face. She doesn’t stay on him long though, Lena has entered the scene and her eminence captures Tangere’s stare. A smile subtly pulls at her lips as she looks her over. Others speak, but by now she is looking at her new leaders. She’s seen them both, maybe even talked to the golden boy, but has never known them for real. Soon, perhaps, they will get to know the aloof, non-contributor that she is. For now though, she would much rather blend in with the crowd and find Deimos after to discuss her position in the herd. Or is she supposed to discuss that with Hotoru and Thran? She gets lost in the thought and decides to leave that subject alone as long as possible. She returns to quietly listening to the huffs, arguments and dagger looks being pushed back and forth. All else falling dimly into the background. “” AND THE DOVE OF HOPE BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE... |
-gag- i'm sorry for the shit quality.
things will get better when i shake the cobwebs off a bit more c;
- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
- Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:
