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01-13-2016, 07:59 AM
The two played an idle game beside the lake. While Imogen batted at small rivulets in the water, shaking and shuddering when the cool liquid brushed against her paw, Lena’s thoughts and eyes wandered over the scenery, over the hills, over the rushing tides of altering, changing seasons. Had she not been studying the ways of her world so intently, she may have missed the figures entering the tent. Curiosity flickered and flared along her mind. She’d always been aware of the tent’s presence, but had never sought to enter it or wander along its midst; it had become just another piece of the Basin backdrop, like the sentinels rising towards the sun, or the peaks maintaining their vast, supreme glory. But to see others roaming into it was another matter – and she could only speculate so far as to what they were doing. Was there a meeting she was unaware of? She’d seen their Lord, and Rexanna, and someone unfamiliar…and the notion to pry, to intrude, was nearly whisked away. It wasn’t her business to go snooping. She could ponder all the while, adrift in her thoughts, catching the sun’s beams off of the calm lake. But… Her nose wrinkled. Her brow furrowed. The ivory fox gazed at her with a stare akin to mischief. How many times had she ever caved into her mercurial wiles, her capricious whims? How many hours had she spent in speculation, but never discovering truths and lies? For a few moments, she did nothing but debate herself, biting her bottom lip, casting her stare towards the heavens, and then allowing it to come back to the tent, to the billowing fabric, to the strange, enticing, beguiling notions left to nothing… They moved quickly thereafter; Imogen chirped a laugh, and the Mender hid her grin. For once, she could play more than just the calm, compassionate beast – dreaming of fey essences, of fairy realms, dipping her head below the material (how strange not to hear any voices outside the wares!), to discover a warm, effervescent sight. She managed to catch the last bits of Ashamin’s, who she hadn’t known was even within the confines, speech – riveting and rapturing her gaze to the bits and pieces strewn on the floor. Her smile enraptured, widened and beneficent, dabbled amidst her awe-d vocals. “Painting! How delightful!” Imogen chirruped again in response, perhaps delighted her bonded had an opportunity to express a sentiment other than melancholy, and they continued to move further within the tent, extending greetings to everyone with a nod for each, even the strange fellow she didn’t recognize or know. To the Haruspex, and lovely Johnny, whose appearance deemed everything must be in good cheer, she extended her composure and compliments. “What a splendid idea. What would you like us to paint?” her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love LENA |
