08-07-2020, 10:51 PM
l e p i s
gave me the blues and then purple pink skies
“Didn’t want to risk dazzling you with it,” Lepis quips apace, though nothing about her stern scowl softens in the slightest. There had been a brief moment, just after he’d sighed, that had signaled weariness. She was suddenly quite glad to know where the water was, and for the fact that the afternoon sun overhead is not hidden by clouds of a summer storm. Her blue-lashed eyes narrow for another long moment, and then she shakes her muzzle and moves back a half-stride.
He is not especially easy to read, but he is amusing. Lepis has grown nearly bored in the last year(the second spent waiting for an attack that she has done what she can to prevent), and she is unwilling to let go of something that promises humor. Even if that something is a strange man appearing in the middle of her seventh favorite canyon.
“This is Loess, yes,” she concedes from the slightly greater distance between them. From here, she looks over the dusty stranger indifferently. Gray, and quite tall. He lacks Tipper’s yellow mane, she can see now, and the feathered wings along his shoulders are not quite so pale as light on fresh snow.
For a brief moment, it seems that might be all that the dark haired mare means to say. But then Lepis looks back at him from where her gaze has drifted to the distant peaks. Though her brow remains marked, her scowl has faded, and the steel blue eyes she sets on him now are only half so suspicious as before. A gust of warm wind brings with it the crisp scent of water that Lepis had been following prior to his descent. His throat is as dry as hers, if the sound of his voice is any sign, and Lepis is thirsty.
“My name is Lepis,” she tells him, “Queen of Loess.” It is not a title she will ever tire of saying or hearing, and it is one she will never relinquish while alive. “What do you need to find one of the Queens for?” She pauses for just a moment, and then turns to head toward the spring.
“I’m going to get a drink now.” She tells him with a flick of her navy tail. “If you wish to come along, tell me something of yourself.”
@[Tarian]
He is not especially easy to read, but he is amusing. Lepis has grown nearly bored in the last year(the second spent waiting for an attack that she has done what she can to prevent), and she is unwilling to let go of something that promises humor. Even if that something is a strange man appearing in the middle of her seventh favorite canyon.
“This is Loess, yes,” she concedes from the slightly greater distance between them. From here, she looks over the dusty stranger indifferently. Gray, and quite tall. He lacks Tipper’s yellow mane, she can see now, and the feathered wings along his shoulders are not quite so pale as light on fresh snow.
For a brief moment, it seems that might be all that the dark haired mare means to say. But then Lepis looks back at him from where her gaze has drifted to the distant peaks. Though her brow remains marked, her scowl has faded, and the steel blue eyes she sets on him now are only half so suspicious as before. A gust of warm wind brings with it the crisp scent of water that Lepis had been following prior to his descent. His throat is as dry as hers, if the sound of his voice is any sign, and Lepis is thirsty.
“My name is Lepis,” she tells him, “Queen of Loess.” It is not a title she will ever tire of saying or hearing, and it is one she will never relinquish while alive. “What do you need to find one of the Queens for?” She pauses for just a moment, and then turns to head toward the spring.
“I’m going to get a drink now.” She tells him with a flick of her navy tail. “If you wish to come along, tell me something of yourself.”