At her smile, the stranger’s wings fold in, and he moves closer. Moira is sure that his face had softened, just a small bit. Had she imagined that? No, she thinks, she had not. Nor had she missed the way he remains between her and the water, a corporeal barrier between the siren and the sea.
It makes her feel trapped.
It makes her wonder how far behind her the river had been.
Moira does not like the feeling at all, nor the way it makes her throat tighten even as she listens to his proposed route and reasoning. Her expression remains polite, but she does glance now then over his dappled back and the brown wings, to where the ocean glitters.
When Wherewolf steps forward to show her the Northern trail, she feels the ocean racing across the space he’d left behind, the sensation of it rushing over the young nereid like the tide. She sidesteps, moving to the pegasus’ far side so she is nearest the sea even as she moves close to take position beside him.
“From Ischia,” she confirms with a nod, looking north as though she might see the place on the far horizon. There’s only wildflowers though, blooming bright and beautiful even this time of year (I have forgotten the time of year so I hope it’s not winter).
“I’ve never seen an Elkear.” She tells him. She has no idea what an elkear even is. What Moira does know is that even if they’re the Pampian version of a jaguar, she is more eager to get to the ocean than she is to avoid meeting one.
So although she does at first follow alongside, her steps eventually slow until she comes to a stop. She glances back over her shoulder to where the shortest path is about to disappear behind a rolling hill of orange and blue flowers. Is it truly dangerous to go that way, she wonders?
Surely the stranger, being a native to these lands, would know? Perhaps, she reasons, he was just being overprotective, thinking that small Moira could not defend herself. Happy with this solution that keeps her new acquaintance in a positive light, Moira decides that she will make her way through the impassable lands, and also perhaps prove to this stranger that appearance isn’t everything.
“I think I’ll go back that way.” She says, pointing her dark muzzle toward the west. She is hesitant about seeming rude, so she smiles again, and her nerves manifest in her voice when she says: “Would you like to come with me?” and accidentally enchants the words more than she means to.
@Wherewolf
It makes her feel trapped.
It makes her wonder how far behind her the river had been.
Moira does not like the feeling at all, nor the way it makes her throat tighten even as she listens to his proposed route and reasoning. Her expression remains polite, but she does glance now then over his dappled back and the brown wings, to where the ocean glitters.
When Wherewolf steps forward to show her the Northern trail, she feels the ocean racing across the space he’d left behind, the sensation of it rushing over the young nereid like the tide. She sidesteps, moving to the pegasus’ far side so she is nearest the sea even as she moves close to take position beside him.
“From Ischia,” she confirms with a nod, looking north as though she might see the place on the far horizon. There’s only wildflowers though, blooming bright and beautiful even this time of year (I have forgotten the time of year so I hope it’s not winter).
“I’ve never seen an Elkear.” She tells him. She has no idea what an elkear even is. What Moira does know is that even if they’re the Pampian version of a jaguar, she is more eager to get to the ocean than she is to avoid meeting one.
So although she does at first follow alongside, her steps eventually slow until she comes to a stop. She glances back over her shoulder to where the shortest path is about to disappear behind a rolling hill of orange and blue flowers. Is it truly dangerous to go that way, she wonders?
Surely the stranger, being a native to these lands, would know? Perhaps, she reasons, he was just being overprotective, thinking that small Moira could not defend herself. Happy with this solution that keeps her new acquaintance in a positive light, Moira decides that she will make her way through the impassable lands, and also perhaps prove to this stranger that appearance isn’t everything.
“I think I’ll go back that way.” She says, pointing her dark muzzle toward the west. She is hesitant about seeming rude, so she smiles again, and her nerves manifest in her voice when she says: “Would you like to come with me?” and accidentally enchants the words more than she means to.
@Wherewolf