M A R E N - By the precepts of her purity -
She liked the snow, she liked the cold, but she did not mind the sticky warmth of her homeland either. Perhaps she had grown to love it as the seasons had passed and the efforts of time had wrapped its familiarization around her. Yet, ironically, winter was when the Dragon's Throat climate was most comfortable.
Par...Tea? Maren walked up to the group as she looked up at the festively decorated tree with a mind echoing her favorite beverage. Glancing over at Aithniel, she seemed to have come up with the decorations to symbolize a merry celebration and cheer. However, she couldn't help but realize she had raised her eyebrows with unidentified surprise at the efforts of their new Sultana. In Maren's eyes she was nobel, sure. The Inquisitor had to be, being the child of their God. The tiger mare had just not expected it. Maybe from someone like Sikeax, or even Cera, but Aithniel had always seemed too... Too much like her? Too serious? Like she didn't care much for such trivial things as grins and 'making memories', laughter? But what do I know about the depths of their individuality and personality, she sighed in thought, then turned her ears to listen to the chatters and discussions of her family, at who was there.
She had found a place to stand beside Misael, who she knew somewhat better than other, less familiar, faces. A girl who introduced herself as Myrrine spoke, about things, about the World's Edge. She was a butterfly-winged mare whose wings seemed as frail as her form. Her laugh resounded in her ears as she talked, much like little bells. She was pretty and warm and the Crownless could see her attracting a lot of attention. It were these types of mares that made her feel aware of her coldness, made her feel rough around the edges — but made her feel happy she didn’t care too much about such things as well.
Finding that there were indeed a few she did not recognize (and let's face it, would probably not recognize her, either), she decided to introduce herself once more as well. “For those who do not know me, I am the Diviner of the Throat, Maren. I am in charge of the Disciples of the Sun, the Patron to this herd.” Because shameless promotion of faith, you know. Anyhow, she glanced over at Misael, perhaps wanting to say that she was glad he had returned to their ranks if he had and, if that wasn’t the case, just that he had returned. But without words, for there seemed to be a lot of senseless chatter going on as it was and her tired rationality didn't feel any particular motivation to add a "How've you been?" to the pile of nonsensical wastes of words and phrases. Instead, she wanted to hear from their Sultana what was new, what was old, what was good, and, probably foremost, what was bad.
My thoughts seem to have been caught in a rather negative spiral this afternoon.
In the end the mare scraped her throat and concluded to herself, but maybe to Misael as well; "I guess I am just in that kind of a mood today."
Which, let's be real, could be interpreted in many ways.
Mentioning Aith, Myrinne and talking(ish) to Misael xD
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
Holiday Celebrations! [Meeting and Raffle!]
