It’s not even been twelve hours since her dalliance in the woods, but it had taken less than half the time for the purpose of it to come rushing back. She can still taste Charlemange in the back of her throat, but it has been dampened by the same thoughts that had guided her hooves away from Sylva, the same thoughts that had her being a small brown someone for a while rather than herself.
Warrick is a better distraction, she finds, and the irony that she advises him on a situation that is eerie similar to her own does not escape her. Or perhaps it does and she is peacefully oblivious.
“You’d be surprised,” she replies with a crooked grin, but there is a finalty in her voice that suggests she does not wish to go farther on the subject. She doesn’t have to, not with her own penchant for spontaneity. The surprise in his eyes does not go unappreciated; Djiini has always been a natural at preening. She doesn’t move away from his curious touch, only nips playfully at the empty air he leaves behind when he pulls away.
His admission leaves her frowning; she cannot believe him. They might not all be titled and magnificent, but she’s yet to find anyone that is not important in some way. Still, she is not inclined to argue with the blue haired stranger, not when his admiring gaze keeps her occupied. “Maybe,” she says as she tosses her head and causes her golden earrings to shatter, “Maybe not. Maybe just in Sylva.” She shrugs, falsely modest. “And where are you from, where they let you think you are not someone too?”
slim build
smoky grullo tobiano
sea green eyes