03-21-2018, 07:58 AM
 Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch, the sound of others approaching. Her ears flicker towards the sound and she turns her head. For a good moment she is taken aback, he has wings, big ones, that could carry him in flight. Her ears pricked forward. She did not seem phased at his lively demeanour, she had spent many a time surrounded by enthusiastic youths who had marvelled at her colours until their elders told them better. She accepts his compliment, with a clear "Thank you" In response. Castile... An interesting name. She had heard tales of a country once, long ago and far away, by that name. She was about to give her own when again the slight squelch of an approach came across on the breeze. She turned once more to the sound of another approach; a horn this time on a gold coat and her head tilted slightly in confusion and wonder. Then the downdraft of something in the air, and her head turned upwards. My what wings! Such bright colours. And she began to feel less like an outcast and more like she fitted with the norms of this place. She took the introduction of the new two before she gave her response. "Painted Mask, or just Mask for short." Her voice was soft but strong, it contained some of the steel of her core wrapped in her apathy of no ambition to move above her station. "I find the worst of the mud to be when you stand still too long and it tried to claim you. Sometimes though, a coating of it brings relief. I'd rather the mud than the horseflies." She offered all three a smile. It seemed like, here, her differences were attracting others. The part of her that clung to what others had said in her past screamed 'Freaks, we're all freaks here!' |