stand in the ashes of what once was
The abrupt words cause his ears to twitch back, followed by his head turning in the direction of the young voice, albeit at a much more sedate pace than the former.
While the appearance of the young girl is sudden, and her overall physical appearance is something to make note of, Soran is focused more on her daring approach and question. Such fearlessness can be a condemning thing. However, those who are young always do no know that danger can be right in front of them.
"Are you lost?" Was he?
He does not answer immediately, rather he returns a smile to the young girl that will suffice and not cause any concern about his emotional state. (Despite the dark eyes she has, Soran does not miss the lingering look she gives him — more specifically, his scars. He chooses not to comment on it.)
Then as she offers her name, his smile turns slightly more sincere. Now, at this point if he were a more sinister being, hearing one have such a name would be the perfect opportunity for all manner of things, and he cannot help the worry that sprouts within him at the idea her name could create unwanted situations in her life.
"Soran," he offers in return, tone gentle and not something one would expect from someone that looks like him.
"You're not from here." He is just about to smirk at that statement when other movement catches his attention. Glancing in the direction with only his eyes, the new face which appears is older, perhaps older than himself even though he cannot be certain. With wings held tight against them and a smile edging the lines of being too tense, Soran keeps quiet as this woman approaches with a nod and abnormal greeting, just as the young girl had.
He takes note of the name Beqanna, holds it in his mind for later examination.
"Again, I am Soran," he offers once more, (he does not think about how the name of the older woman brings with it the image of cresting waves and roaring waters) angling his body to face both of them. "And no, I am not lost." With being lost came a feeling of anguish at not knowing something. Soran did not feel that. Wherever he was, that was fine with him.
(Even then, perhaps he was lost, for when one was lost they longed for their home; longed for the familiar embrace of that which they did know.)
"I am simply... thinking." Thinking about paths, which direction to head next. He gives the two before him another smile, "You both live here, it seems," he gestures to the path he had been contemplating before Desire had approached. "Could either of you tell me where this might lead?"
@[Desire] @[Oceane]
While the appearance of the young girl is sudden, and her overall physical appearance is something to make note of, Soran is focused more on her daring approach and question. Such fearlessness can be a condemning thing. However, those who are young always do no know that danger can be right in front of them.
"Are you lost?" Was he?
He does not answer immediately, rather he returns a smile to the young girl that will suffice and not cause any concern about his emotional state. (Despite the dark eyes she has, Soran does not miss the lingering look she gives him — more specifically, his scars. He chooses not to comment on it.)
Then as she offers her name, his smile turns slightly more sincere. Now, at this point if he were a more sinister being, hearing one have such a name would be the perfect opportunity for all manner of things, and he cannot help the worry that sprouts within him at the idea her name could create unwanted situations in her life.
"Soran," he offers in return, tone gentle and not something one would expect from someone that looks like him.
"You're not from here." He is just about to smirk at that statement when other movement catches his attention. Glancing in the direction with only his eyes, the new face which appears is older, perhaps older than himself even though he cannot be certain. With wings held tight against them and a smile edging the lines of being too tense, Soran keeps quiet as this woman approaches with a nod and abnormal greeting, just as the young girl had.
He takes note of the name Beqanna, holds it in his mind for later examination.
"Again, I am Soran," he offers once more, (he does not think about how the name of the older woman brings with it the image of cresting waves and roaring waters) angling his body to face both of them. "And no, I am not lost." With being lost came a feeling of anguish at not knowing something. Soran did not feel that. Wherever he was, that was fine with him.
(Even then, perhaps he was lost, for when one was lost they longed for their home; longed for the familiar embrace of that which they did know.)
"I am simply... thinking." Thinking about paths, which direction to head next. He gives the two before him another smile, "You both live here, it seems," he gestures to the path he had been contemplating before Desire had approached. "Could either of you tell me where this might lead?"
neamrel