YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS
The bright smile on her blazed face fades as soon as the Magician speaks her name.
(Aela has spent enough time in the company of horses like Eight and Straia and Beyza to know Magic when it grazes across her golden skin, when it picks and prods at her mind.) The young mare doesn't quite scowl but she had hoped to attend this event without being recognized. Ah, well. If wishes were horses -
Well, she thinks. Perhaps they are.
She hasn't completely dismissed this excursion yet.
"Home?" she asks the bay roan. "I haven't lived in the North for some time." Her expression does shift then and the palomino nearly purrs the words: "though I'm flattered you still remember me."
Her blue eyes trace over his shape (because every memory is an opportunity and a meeting with a dragon is one she doesn't intend to waste) and the young mare tilts her face to his, a picture of innocence.
Sensing the way that he tries to figure her out - (Pangea, hmm?) - and glancing at the ice maze, Aela's smile turns radiant. He could take it from her- her memories, her thoughts. That is always the upper-hoof with Magicians. But most have spent at least a century with that kind of absolute power and if there something that Aela has gleaned about the Immortals is that even absolute power becomes dull.
"How about this," she offers to the Freyr, willing to play the spark. A dimple forms in her left cheek and Aela peers up at him from beneath her flaxen forelock. "You could accompany me to the maze," she explains with a playful blue gaze, "and for every dead-end we find, I'll answer your questions. For every reflection we get caught in, you tell me something of you."
@[Leilan]