07-09-2022, 11:00 PM
One dark ear swivels at the sound of crunching snow, the noise indicative of a shifting of her weight. Not the worst possible reaction then, Malik decides: she’s not just going to try and run him through. He does not let himself relax though, for though she’d sounded amused there for a moment, there is always the chance that he has misread. The winged stallion’s attentiveness comes from a childhood filled with adults prone to violence and quicksilver emotions, then perfected by a concentrated effort to learn how to be a proper diplomat.
The latter gives him the ability to keep always the light of amusement in his bicolored eyes, even if it flickers for a moment at her response.
“There have been…” his voice trails off, for how does one explain that part of the world has fallen into the sea and parts of it plagued by storm and fog? “Some strange things happening.” That hardly covers it, but he’s not time to elaborate the realization of what she’s said sinks in at her repetition. She’s not seen Sickle.
Now is the time to leave, because there is nothing else she can offer him. He’s ready to do so, but then the quiet stammer that he’d planned to ignore becomes instead a confession that she, too, is searching for someone.
Empathy for those outside his family isn’t something he often bothers with, finding it too emotionally draining. Better to keep everyone at a distance. He cannot read her face, shielded as it is by her blowing forelock, so he doesn’t immediately reply. Now is the time to leave, before he becomes invested in whomever it is that she has lost.
But he doesn’t, instead turning his head just slightly at her question. The oddity of it is met with a thoughtful frown and a pursing of his dark mouth: considering, but not with an entirely serious intent. “As real as you are, I suppose.” He finally answers, and his brows raise as though waiting her to prove her own existence.
Only for a moment though, because he is still thinking of Sickle, and who this stranger who has only just arrived in Beqanna might be looking for. “Who is he? The one you’re looking for, I mean.”
@Famkee
The latter gives him the ability to keep always the light of amusement in his bicolored eyes, even if it flickers for a moment at her response.
“There have been…” his voice trails off, for how does one explain that part of the world has fallen into the sea and parts of it plagued by storm and fog? “Some strange things happening.” That hardly covers it, but he’s not time to elaborate the realization of what she’s said sinks in at her repetition. She’s not seen Sickle.
Now is the time to leave, because there is nothing else she can offer him. He’s ready to do so, but then the quiet stammer that he’d planned to ignore becomes instead a confession that she, too, is searching for someone.
Empathy for those outside his family isn’t something he often bothers with, finding it too emotionally draining. Better to keep everyone at a distance. He cannot read her face, shielded as it is by her blowing forelock, so he doesn’t immediately reply. Now is the time to leave, before he becomes invested in whomever it is that she has lost.
But he doesn’t, instead turning his head just slightly at her question. The oddity of it is met with a thoughtful frown and a pursing of his dark mouth: considering, but not with an entirely serious intent. “As real as you are, I suppose.” He finally answers, and his brows raise as though waiting her to prove her own existence.
Only for a moment though, because he is still thinking of Sickle, and who this stranger who has only just arrived in Beqanna might be looking for. “Who is he? The one you’re looking for, I mean.”
@Famkee