Uwaritace
04-24-2018, 02:46 AM
Place a name upon the night, one to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.
The soft, plush skin of another presses back as Taivas comforts the stallion she'd saved many weeks before in the Portal.
If the shaman was surprised by how easily he accepted the gesture, none of it showed on her face. The girl knew all too well how fragile the injured could be, even if the scars were not visible on the surface. Her neutral expression remained in place, even as she described her circumstances. Easily, perhaps too easily, her lips fold and shape the words that she could not return home. Her voice, like the pale glow of stars just before dawn, is soft and thin, but not melancholy or thick with anguish as one might expect.
Yet, it would not be fair to say she was cold or clinical.
Waker seems to take all of this information in with deep patience, quietly examining it in his mind. The frown on his lips deepens, yet he says nothing at first. Taivas stands in the wake of her words, unaffected by the absence or just unaware. Hard to tell the difference.
Why can't you go home?
His question is one she does not expect, but she does not know much about Waker. The shaman saved him with little care for him afterward, leaving him with the dimly glowing fire and never looking back. Effectively, aside from their few run-ins, they were strangers. It should not be a surprise that he would seek to close the distance between himself and his inept savior, but to the asocial girl, the gesture is... unfamiliar and odd. The feeling of anxiety in her heart grows, wondering if they were perhaps friends, as she was with Roscorro.
She had never really had a friend, let alone more than one.
"A foreign has invaded my home and enslaved my kin," she says with surreal tranquility. "Going back after fleeing only means death."
If the shaman was surprised by how easily he accepted the gesture, none of it showed on her face. The girl knew all too well how fragile the injured could be, even if the scars were not visible on the surface. Her neutral expression remained in place, even as she described her circumstances. Easily, perhaps too easily, her lips fold and shape the words that she could not return home. Her voice, like the pale glow of stars just before dawn, is soft and thin, but not melancholy or thick with anguish as one might expect.
Yet, it would not be fair to say she was cold or clinical.
Waker seems to take all of this information in with deep patience, quietly examining it in his mind. The frown on his lips deepens, yet he says nothing at first. Taivas stands in the wake of her words, unaffected by the absence or just unaware. Hard to tell the difference.
Why can't you go home?
His question is one she does not expect, but she does not know much about Waker. The shaman saved him with little care for him afterward, leaving him with the dimly glowing fire and never looking back. Effectively, aside from their few run-ins, they were strangers. It should not be a surprise that he would seek to close the distance between himself and his inept savior, but to the asocial girl, the gesture is... unfamiliar and odd. The feeling of anxiety in her heart grows, wondering if they were perhaps friends, as she was with Roscorro.
She had never really had a friend, let alone more than one.
"A foreign has invaded my home and enslaved my kin," she says with surreal tranquility. "Going back after fleeing only means death."
Taivas
