01-14-2020, 06:36 PM
O C E A N E
Hath in her veins,
to beat and run,
the glad indomitable sea,
the strong white sun.
to beat and run,
the glad indomitable sea,
the strong white sun.
"Ilma," she repeats the ivory woman's name with that same polite smile all the while trying to decide whether or not she'd heard of her before, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Oceane had suspected that this visit would be diplomatic of sorts — the white woman had not arrived with anything akin to hopefulness present upon her face (something that she has found to be commonly expressed on those seeking permission to find residence within a territory), though the lack of one territory's scent over another had left her curious.
Ilma's explanation gives Oceane the answers she had been searching for, and she nods with interest and commendation. "You have a noble vision for Beqanna," the Loessian woman falls silent for a few beats, thinking on the task that Ilma has set before herself. "I've never been fond of war," she says finally, the words falling like a secret confession from a lavender maw. War had affected her entire childhood and young adult life, though not just hers — the whole of Nau-Aib was built on war. On bloodshed. On domination. War is no stranger to the winged woman, but she has always refused to participate.
She garners no pleasure from the physical pain of others.
She intends to offer a helping hand to her new acquaintance, a sort of loose promise that she will help where she can and when she can. But she's caught off guard by Ilma's sudden mention of Castile and instead of continuing their conversation on this new form of diplomacy, Oceane chuckles. The sound is a little off-balance, though not impolite. "I believe he is," she says with a flick of her lavender tail, "Though he's been completing his own diplomatic visits as of late, so I can't give you anything too up-to-date." She shrugs her winged shoulders apologetically before clearing her throat and returning to their previous topic of conversation — "How have you fared in your travels thus far?"
@[Ilma]
" "
Ilma's explanation gives Oceane the answers she had been searching for, and she nods with interest and commendation. "You have a noble vision for Beqanna," the Loessian woman falls silent for a few beats, thinking on the task that Ilma has set before herself. "I've never been fond of war," she says finally, the words falling like a secret confession from a lavender maw. War had affected her entire childhood and young adult life, though not just hers — the whole of Nau-Aib was built on war. On bloodshed. On domination. War is no stranger to the winged woman, but she has always refused to participate.
She garners no pleasure from the physical pain of others.
She intends to offer a helping hand to her new acquaintance, a sort of loose promise that she will help where she can and when she can. But she's caught off guard by Ilma's sudden mention of Castile and instead of continuing their conversation on this new form of diplomacy, Oceane chuckles. The sound is a little off-balance, though not impolite. "I believe he is," she says with a flick of her lavender tail, "Though he's been completing his own diplomatic visits as of late, so I can't give you anything too up-to-date." She shrugs her winged shoulders apologetically before clearing her throat and returning to their previous topic of conversation — "How have you fared in your travels thus far?"
" "
neamrel / thedayofshadow
i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by