11-24-2020, 06:16 PM
I fell for your magic, I tasted your skin
The place is a marvel.
His foam-green eyes can’t help but drink in all the reds and browns and oranges of the canyon-land as he passes through it. All the colors are the exact opposite of those he grew up with in the cold-blue and green of his oceanic home. The climate is warm – almost too much so – and he keeps his leathery wings held slightly off of his pale sides to stay cooler. He is so distracted by the towering, jutting peaks that he runs into his guide at one point, and bounces off of her as quickly as he can with a “sorry, lass!”
When they finally stop, Finian glances at Oceane with wonder in his eyes and gently shakes a head that feels heavy with all he’s seen. He’s about to launch into an inappropriate joke about the shape of one of the rising hoodoos when he sees the expression on his companion’s face. He sobers instantly, though he’s always dismayed when a good joke is wasted.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wondering how many times he’ll have to say it before her luck turns around. He didn’t decide to stay in Beqanna to endure such hardships or to bear the load for anyone else, but he finds himself willing to do it for now. If he has his way, though, laughter will soon echo on these rocky walls. “The politics here r’so different. I’ll have ‘ta catch up fast, won’t I?” It is frustrating not to fully comprehend what is going on, what he can do to help. He’s no fighter, but he reckons he could charm Oceane’s enemies to death, if needed. “You’ll tell me what I need t’do?”
His gaze slides from hers to the steam rising from the pool of water nearby. A part of him wants to take off for the water immediately, to pull the opalescent woman with him and splash in the water until their worries are forgotten, even if for a time. It’s what he would have done back home. Water anew, his mother always told him, a phrase that encompassed everything. Water was always there, always changing, always purifying. Swimming in different waters is still swimming in water, he thinks.
“Life is simpler where I’m from, by and under the ocean,” he says evenly, as if it’s not a good thing or a bad thing, just different. “I had a wonderful life, a beautiful family. Aye, but these feet like the road and my eyes like new faces too well.” He churns his cloven hooves in the red clay for emphasis and waggles his brows at her. “Plus me brothers and sisters have already heard enough of me jokes to last a lifetime.” His grin slides away as quickly as it rose on his face. He’s almost afraid to ask her, but he does. “What about you, Oceane? Have you always lived in this dust bowl?”
His foam-green eyes can’t help but drink in all the reds and browns and oranges of the canyon-land as he passes through it. All the colors are the exact opposite of those he grew up with in the cold-blue and green of his oceanic home. The climate is warm – almost too much so – and he keeps his leathery wings held slightly off of his pale sides to stay cooler. He is so distracted by the towering, jutting peaks that he runs into his guide at one point, and bounces off of her as quickly as he can with a “sorry, lass!”
When they finally stop, Finian glances at Oceane with wonder in his eyes and gently shakes a head that feels heavy with all he’s seen. He’s about to launch into an inappropriate joke about the shape of one of the rising hoodoos when he sees the expression on his companion’s face. He sobers instantly, though he’s always dismayed when a good joke is wasted.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wondering how many times he’ll have to say it before her luck turns around. He didn’t decide to stay in Beqanna to endure such hardships or to bear the load for anyone else, but he finds himself willing to do it for now. If he has his way, though, laughter will soon echo on these rocky walls. “The politics here r’so different. I’ll have ‘ta catch up fast, won’t I?” It is frustrating not to fully comprehend what is going on, what he can do to help. He’s no fighter, but he reckons he could charm Oceane’s enemies to death, if needed. “You’ll tell me what I need t’do?”
His gaze slides from hers to the steam rising from the pool of water nearby. A part of him wants to take off for the water immediately, to pull the opalescent woman with him and splash in the water until their worries are forgotten, even if for a time. It’s what he would have done back home. Water anew, his mother always told him, a phrase that encompassed everything. Water was always there, always changing, always purifying. Swimming in different waters is still swimming in water, he thinks.
“Life is simpler where I’m from, by and under the ocean,” he says evenly, as if it’s not a good thing or a bad thing, just different. “I had a wonderful life, a beautiful family. Aye, but these feet like the road and my eyes like new faces too well.” He churns his cloven hooves in the red clay for emphasis and waggles his brows at her. “Plus me brothers and sisters have already heard enough of me jokes to last a lifetime.” His grin slides away as quickly as it rose on his face. He’s almost afraid to ask her, but he does. “What about you, Oceane? Have you always lived in this dust bowl?”
Finian
@[Oceane]