03-06-2022, 07:22 PM
Malik has never come across someone in these woods before, so though he is scowling when he first meets Areane’s gaze, the furrowed expression on the youth's handsome brow is soon replaced by surprise, and then curiosity.
Like everyone else he has seen in the last few months, the amethyst-eyed mare is a stranger. Malik’s bicolored eyes - one orange and one blue - fix on hers for a long time, having never seen such purple eyes before. He realizes this as she speaks, and turns his attention to the rest of her as she explains she’s looking for the queen of Loess.
Black and green, she says, not someone that sounds familiar to Malik. He shakes his horned head as a smile tilts the edge of his mouth, agreeing that he is not the one she searches for. He is black, but that is where the resemblance to his cousin ends. Malik is unaware of his relation to the woman that the dark-haired mare is looking for.
Good morning, she begins again, and the smile on his face grows wider. They’re starting over, it seems, and Malik is happy to play along. “It is,” he replies, “Hardly any wind last night at all.” The midwinter winds that travel downstream from the mountains often carry snow with them, but the sun has risen with hardly more than a few inches on the ground.
“I’m Malik,” he tells her, and wonders how long she will stay before resuming her search for the missing queen. How long has she been missing, Malik wonders? Since the flooding? It would be rude to ask, he knows, so he remains quiet, waiting for a name in return, and then perhaps a goodbye as she takes off again.
@Areane
Like everyone else he has seen in the last few months, the amethyst-eyed mare is a stranger. Malik’s bicolored eyes - one orange and one blue - fix on hers for a long time, having never seen such purple eyes before. He realizes this as she speaks, and turns his attention to the rest of her as she explains she’s looking for the queen of Loess.
Black and green, she says, not someone that sounds familiar to Malik. He shakes his horned head as a smile tilts the edge of his mouth, agreeing that he is not the one she searches for. He is black, but that is where the resemblance to his cousin ends. Malik is unaware of his relation to the woman that the dark-haired mare is looking for.
Good morning, she begins again, and the smile on his face grows wider. They’re starting over, it seems, and Malik is happy to play along. “It is,” he replies, “Hardly any wind last night at all.” The midwinter winds that travel downstream from the mountains often carry snow with them, but the sun has risen with hardly more than a few inches on the ground.
“I’m Malik,” he tells her, and wonders how long she will stay before resuming her search for the missing queen. How long has she been missing, Malik wonders? Since the flooding? It would be rude to ask, he knows, so he remains quiet, waiting for a name in return, and then perhaps a goodbye as she takes off again.
@Areane