She didn't mind that the others didn't speak to her.
Yseulte was accustomed to such solitude, and so she accepted it readily. She also understood the Edge dwellers had responsibilities, duties, and lives of their own. They didn't have time to baby sit the new kid, and she would have scorned them if they had attempted. So it was with a strange, pleasant feeling in her chest, something along the lines of contentment, that she enjoyed the warmth of the breeze against the sharp angles of her face and breathed in the sweet scent of blossoming pinks in the air.
Although she still preferred open spaces, like rolling meadows or prairie-land, the soft green forest, shrouded in mystery and serene beauty, was something she had recently grown to like, if not yet love. She liked the feel of the sun dappling her back through the patchwork quilt of renewing leaves, and the smell of ferns in the undergrowth. It was a lovely lifestyle, here at the edge of the world.
And yet, she had nothing to contribute to this new way of life. And so it was an empty sort of existence, that Yseulte pretended to be part of something she was clearly not.
She was surprised to feel the presence of another at this early hour. Yseulte was not a night-dweller—darkness was something she could not have in her life. She needed light, desperately, as though it could balance out the darkness lingering in her heart. As Lace approached in an uncertain manner with a shy smile, she offered both he and his loyal Fajira one of her easy smiles, hoping to make him feel welcomed. He pulled up near her side, and she exchanged sweet, warm breaths with him, and nipped at his forelock before withdrawing. It was a simple greeting, but a greeting nonetheless.
"Is it?" she mused aloud in a vague sort of voice, glancing back to the sea gleaming bright in the cold light of dawn. She had not seen many of the members of the Edge since that night at the fires. Such bright fire. She had retired early, with the uneasy image of flames still dancing in her mind, reminding her of things better left forgotten. Her bright, unwavering gaze, so like the shifting unpredictability of the sea, fixed on the amber glitter of his jeweled eyes.
"I've been well. And you, Lace? You seem weary."
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