Warrior's gaze did not miss the small shimmy that passed over her new companion's hips, causing her brow to quirk up ever so slightly; was this a tic or an expression of emotion? Tilting her head to the side in a mirror to the golden mare, Eden's gilded ears perked forward to catch her seemingly deliberately slow speech. Nostrils flared slightly at the possibility of an implied insult to her intelligence, and for once she wished for more of her mother's gentle nature, her flowing words and ease with speech. But there was no speech in battle, no pretty words in a war, and thus it was near useless to the battle born lass.
At least that's what she told herself. In truth, when she read, when she viewed text in almost any way, the letters and words danced before her eyes, switching in and out of understanding and shifting along the pages or tablets without the mare's notice. It was her one insecurity, one she took great pains to hide. Indeed, Eden would laugh at the thought of tomes and pages of cramped text instead of admit that they presented a challenge that she worried she would be unable to overcome. Yet, the mare at her side continued to speak and she did not seem unkind. On the contrary, those depthless blue eyes held Eden's own amber gaze unflinchingly and without the glint of an aggressor - she immediately warmed to the girl, despite her almost-offence.
The paladin shuffled almost imperceptibly closer to Bexley Briar as she waited for her turn to speak.
With a curt nod and a small smile, the warrior gave her reply, emboldened by Bexley's lack of rejection, "Then a welcome is in order," Her smile grew by a few degrees and those gilded eyes brightened beneath the relentless sun, "I don't come from this continent," Eden made an effort to relax her speech, to attempt something a little less formal, "I'm born of priestesses, their temple is far from here. The stars told my mother and the council to train me as a paladin, to have me sojourn far in order to defend and protect the Holy Light." A shrug rolled over her muscled shoulders, causing the striped flesh that coated her frame to ripple, "I'm good at fighting and I never liked to worship in the temples, so I guess the stars were right."
Yes, this was how friends were made, by chatting about the past and then making a future - right? Eden crinkled her nose for a moment, realizing that she had no real experience in the social aspects of a life amongst others, she only knew how to beat them into a bloody pulp, and she didn't imagine that was how she was going to make Miss Bexley Briar her friend.
"I'll be true, Miss Bexley Briar, the finer aspects of social interactions escape me. The convent didn't focus much on... Chatting," The last word twisted up toward the end, making it an odd mix between question and statement - what an unclear way to communicate - so she tried again, "You seem to be good at it, though."
Yes, there. A solid observation that could be interpreted as a healthy compliment. Practice made perfect.
@
Also, Eden. Please learn to not be so odd.
