02-27-2017, 02:05 PM
Her question seems to have perturbed him. Djinni's dark eyes flash curiously as he frets, forgetting her own reasons for coming here as she puzzles over his. This is why she had come, she realizes; she had needed a distraction. The woods of Sylva are large, but they are also predictable, filled with the same faces she sees each day, echoing with the same stories she has already heard.
Here, away from the evergold trees, there are still new things.
So she is hopeful when he finally speaks, desirous of an answer that might make her forget. Instead, she hears just what she might say were she asked the same question. Of course, Djinni would have lied. She does not share the shameful parts of herself; she does not let others know of her weaknesses. But his words are uncomfortably familiar, striking a chord she'd rather not hear.
Best to pretend then.
The brown mare had long ago mastered the facade of a wise woman (aided, of course, by the fact that she is wise - if wisdom is knowledge), and she dons it flawlessly at the bay stallion's confession. Nothing changes, not visibly, but she nods as though she understands. (She'll never admit she does.)
"Troubles always seems to be faster than we'd like." She tells him with a shadow of a smile. "Though there's nothing behind you that I can see." Djinni is glancing over his shoulder, though she suspects that whatever he is running away from might lack the physical form that her troubles have.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She adds, but it seems very clear from warm eyes and soft smile that nothing he might tell her will surprise her or elicit any judgment. She's perfected that too, the art of a benevolent looking glass where nothing is too dark or too secret to be said aloud in her presence.
Here, away from the evergold trees, there are still new things.
So she is hopeful when he finally speaks, desirous of an answer that might make her forget. Instead, she hears just what she might say were she asked the same question. Of course, Djinni would have lied. She does not share the shameful parts of herself; she does not let others know of her weaknesses. But his words are uncomfortably familiar, striking a chord she'd rather not hear.
Best to pretend then.
The brown mare had long ago mastered the facade of a wise woman (aided, of course, by the fact that she is wise - if wisdom is knowledge), and she dons it flawlessly at the bay stallion's confession. Nothing changes, not visibly, but she nods as though she understands. (She'll never admit she does.)
"Troubles always seems to be faster than we'd like." She tells him with a shadow of a smile. "Though there's nothing behind you that I can see." Djinni is glancing over his shoulder, though she suspects that whatever he is running away from might lack the physical form that her troubles have.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She adds, but it seems very clear from warm eyes and soft smile that nothing he might tell her will surprise her or elicit any judgment. She's perfected that too, the art of a benevolent looking glass where nothing is too dark or too secret to be said aloud in her presence.
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster