Otem, too much of a child to jump to the conclusion that the stallion was checking her out, and not schooled enough by her warlord Father to conclude that he was assessing her as a potential threat, Otem merely stood beneath the weight of his verdant gaze, feeling uncomfortable. She didn't particularly like to be looked at. Her mother, the philosophical sociopath that she was, held no particular regard for physical beauty, and her father, confident in his appearances, rarely mentioned it around her. And so Otem had grown up with a poor sense of self-worth and identity, and the weight of the stranger's gaze simply reminded her of that.
Awkwardly she shuffled her wings around her shoulders, relieved when his eyes rose to meet hers and he spoke.
"That." She answered simply, nodding towards the sphere of light that dutifully hung near her shoulder. It bobbed gently up and down, as if held up by an invisible ocean that was pulsing with some unseen tidal pull. "Kisamoa gave it to me. He said it would help heal these lands, but that everyone needed to have one." Otem tried to sound as if she knew what she was talking about, her tone much more confident than she in fact was. Her words were the totality of her knowledge on the subject. What would come next was a mystery, as this stallion was the first she'd encountered who hadn't been at the meeting, or whatever it had been.
Expectantly Otem turned her bi-coloured gaze towards the orb, waiting for something to happen.
"Do you know about the sickness?" She asked suddenly, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that nothing seemed to be happening with the orb.
otem
I'm a cold day in august, I'm a stream too shallow.
I'm a heart-shaped box with no letter inside.
Halyven
