02-08-2022, 02:29 PM
Lillibet
For all of the mysterious machismo that drips from Fyr, there’s always that minor flare of flame that tries to knock him down a peg or two. Lillibet spies the brief flash across his dorsal, satisfaction welling warmly in her stomach that she could affect such a reaction from the fire-wielder, but refrains from acknowledging it lest it make him too self-conscious to let it occur the next time she happens to cross his path. The fresh intrigue of her new home has coaxed her away from recent conversations with both he and Herrin ─ she had assumed that the former was wandering in pursuit of answers and the latter had taken to roosting in his cliffside cave ─ but to find the opportunity this evening feels natural. Comforting, even.
His flames flare again, this time persuaded by the brief gust of wind. Lillibet revels in the preternatural heat as her inquiry is voiced, a curious ear tipped forward to receive Fyr’s answer. His response is delayed momentarily and the catch at the middle of his forehead draws the glowing woman’s attention, her gold-flecked eyes lingering there as she wonders at its source: pensiveness, or worry?
The Ruins. Lillibet, too, had felt the strangeness in the common land that had appeared just as suddenly as her home had disappeared. But she had not lost sleep over it. The areas where Loess, Sylva, and the Pampas had proudly existed were still beneath the sea and the Ruins, presumably, did not directly have anything to do with that. “Strange, in the same way the Beach is strange?” she asks, her thoughts catching on the existence of the land that few spoke about at more than a whisper. The Beach, Beqanna’s graveyard. She’s always found it odd to think of death, though it is not a thought that crosses her mind often ─ perhaps now that their island is home to two areas where many have lost their lives, she will think of it more often.
Perhaps now, that her family and Fyr’s family have not─
She clears her throat, a veil of discomfort working its way over her ivory and gold face until she has the expression under control again.
What remains is a playfully pouted lip ─ Nothing for you to worry about, Lilybee ─ and a coy glint in her honeyed eyes. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Fyr?” A bat of her lashes. A shift from pouty innocence to knowing grin. And then silence, to let him play off her guile.
