08-01-2016, 04:24 PM
How funny that they have a similar background. Estela’s attention was beginning to roam, but her eyes peek back through their corners at Josie. ”Who are your parents in the Dale?” She can’t help her piqued interest as she turns her head slowly to once again watch the joyful girl. ”Mine are Tiphon and Elysteria,” she pauses thoughtfully as her body shifts, her talons kneading the soil, ”My brother is the King there.” Ramiel, another child that somehow is cursed with a link to death. That seems to be a trend with her brothers, but not her. No, Estela’s curse is the set of claws, but she sees them more as a gift anyways. ”What made you decide on the Tundra? When did they open their ranks to mares?” She isn’t exactly sure how to handle the information. Were the men so weak that they needed women to bulk their ranks? Or were they exhausted of male-only company?
Estela is considering her options and delves deep into her memories. Father told her stories. He always had advice for his daughter, but much of what he said has since been lost with time. Would she unknowingly walk into a lion’s den because of the crimes her grandfather committed? Because of her physical link to him?
Fear nothing, child. You’re the dangerous one.
With her eyes narrowed Estela shrugs her shoulders. ”I know I’m capable of something greater than dawdling in the shadows of my parents,” which is just another way of reiterating Josie’s statement, really. A drawn-out breath coils from her nostrils in a long, white plume. The brisk spring air scratches down her sides and briefly chills her claws before she moves them accordingly with the approach of someone else. Her tail sweeps across her legs, her head tilting to one side. ”Maybe I do mind,” but in reality, Estela doesn’t. It’s interesting to hear what others have to say about their homes. Their selling points, their highlights, their monarchy. Everything is so different and yet the same. A king and a queen with subjects in a home trying to strengthen itself. That’s the gist, mostly, is it not? Yet she grants each woman the opportunity to speak because Estela is curious. She isn’t yet sure where she will make her own footprint or where she will find herself.
”It’s cute how they had sisterhood marks. Sort of like friendship bracelets,” a low chuckle tumbles from her mouth as her eyes light up in amusement. ”How is the Jungle’s reputation nowadays? Has it weakened like I last heard? Or are you once again in rebuilding?” There are knives on her tongue, but Estela isn’t intentionally crude (is she?). She is blunt and isn’t one to sugarcoat. She can’t bring herself to speak as sweetly as her mother or so drab as father. Estela is unique. What would one expect from an archangel twin?
”How funny that I find myself presented by recruiters from the single-gender-dominated kingdoms,” a pause as her eyes flicker to Josie, ”Or, once gender-dominated.” Her weight shifts to allow a meager stretch as she looks between them. ”What do your kingdoms have to offer?” A cat playing with its mice, biding its time.
Estela is considering her options and delves deep into her memories. Father told her stories. He always had advice for his daughter, but much of what he said has since been lost with time. Would she unknowingly walk into a lion’s den because of the crimes her grandfather committed? Because of her physical link to him?
Fear nothing, child. You’re the dangerous one.
With her eyes narrowed Estela shrugs her shoulders. ”I know I’m capable of something greater than dawdling in the shadows of my parents,” which is just another way of reiterating Josie’s statement, really. A drawn-out breath coils from her nostrils in a long, white plume. The brisk spring air scratches down her sides and briefly chills her claws before she moves them accordingly with the approach of someone else. Her tail sweeps across her legs, her head tilting to one side. ”Maybe I do mind,” but in reality, Estela doesn’t. It’s interesting to hear what others have to say about their homes. Their selling points, their highlights, their monarchy. Everything is so different and yet the same. A king and a queen with subjects in a home trying to strengthen itself. That’s the gist, mostly, is it not? Yet she grants each woman the opportunity to speak because Estela is curious. She isn’t yet sure where she will make her own footprint or where she will find herself.
”It’s cute how they had sisterhood marks. Sort of like friendship bracelets,” a low chuckle tumbles from her mouth as her eyes light up in amusement. ”How is the Jungle’s reputation nowadays? Has it weakened like I last heard? Or are you once again in rebuilding?” There are knives on her tongue, but Estela isn’t intentionally crude (is she?). She is blunt and isn’t one to sugarcoat. She can’t bring herself to speak as sweetly as her mother or so drab as father. Estela is unique. What would one expect from an archangel twin?
”How funny that I find myself presented by recruiters from the single-gender-dominated kingdoms,” a pause as her eyes flicker to Josie, ”Or, once gender-dominated.” Her weight shifts to allow a meager stretch as she looks between them. ”What do your kingdoms have to offer?” A cat playing with its mice, biding its time.
Estela
lies are dripping off your face