Her words are sandpaper on the spine of the snow dusted maiden. Syrena the Storyteller, the one they were looking for had found them first, but with a dry tongue and exterior to match. Frost's dark ears lilted, emerald gaze flicking between the gray and the scaled, though the amicable upturn of her lips never wavered. Her brow raised at the Storyteller's invitation, opening her lips to insist, no, we can't stay long, soon the snow will start to melt and we must be off before then, but her Disciple spoke sooner.
And so the words she would have said were morphed into a breath, a simple exhale lost to the breeze. She moved her dark pillars after her dappled cohort, her eyes moving to look for his and catching his smile. She smiled back despite the questioning glance she gave in return (as if to say, 'are you sure this a good idea?').
She offered a grateful dip of her tiara to Syrena as the maiden's cloven hooves stepped delicately over the border, flicking her leonine tail at her companion as he tried to follow. 'Stay,' she ordered silently, Altair's thoughts spiteful and questioning through the bond. He didn't ask her intentions, though, and quietly the rune encrusted creature retreated away, into the deep forest.
She follows the dappled stallion closely, her thoughts wandering, surely in a land somewhere other than this one. Her eyes take in the unfamiliar scape around her, her body mindlessly following his, and if he would so allow, she would absentmindedly brush her shoulder against his.
She doesn't add to his question, but she considered it. Introductory chit chat wasn't the Haruspex's specialty, so she stays quiet, her presence no more significant than a ghosts.
tl;dr frost doesn't do anything lmao
@Syrena @Cassius
"Talk talk talk"
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