07-01-2018, 04:09 PM
Having always lived on Ischia, Kylin is a stranger to the coming and going of the different seasons. She has experienced winter – and does not like it – and also has witnessed spring and summer during her rare trips to other parts of Beqanna (Hyaline, the river), but autumn is completely new to her. It does not fail to amaze her. And then to think Sylva always looks like this. The rich reds and yellows and oranges put Ischia’s color scheme to a shame. “It’s beautiful!” And Kylin cannot wait to see more.
Standing in front of him – crossed from his right to his left side – the lavender woman has to bend her neck and glance back across her shoulder to see him gesturing in the opposite direction. Her eyes move in the pointed out direction, but she finds herself distracted by Ivar’s touch. It passes by too quick for Kylin’s liking, but his words – and the promise of learning about his childhood – are enough to make her forget. Her tail, in a rather Arabian like way, is held away from her body as she happily follows along, almost bouncing besides the sapphire piebald.
“Where’re we going?” she asks, her soft voice pitched with enthusiasm. In favour of meeting his gaze, her hazel eyes are torn away from the scenery, her muzzle lightly touching his cheek as if to ask him wordlessly. “Will there be water?” It must be, Ivar had learned her how to swim after all.
@[Ivar] Here is your missing post ;P <3
Standing in front of him – crossed from his right to his left side – the lavender woman has to bend her neck and glance back across her shoulder to see him gesturing in the opposite direction. Her eyes move in the pointed out direction, but she finds herself distracted by Ivar’s touch. It passes by too quick for Kylin’s liking, but his words – and the promise of learning about his childhood – are enough to make her forget. Her tail, in a rather Arabian like way, is held away from her body as she happily follows along, almost bouncing besides the sapphire piebald.
“Where’re we going?” she asks, her soft voice pitched with enthusiasm. In favour of meeting his gaze, her hazel eyes are torn away from the scenery, her muzzle lightly touching his cheek as if to ask him wordlessly. “Will there be water?” It must be, Ivar had learned her how to swim after all.
@[Ivar] Here is your missing post ;P <3