Inkheart
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
Bexley stops not far away from the obsidian fae, examining her up and down. The gold-chestnut mare nods in confirmation of her name, murmuring agreement softly, distracted. Inkheart remains silent as she's examined, feeling neither embarrassment nor shame as Bexley's eyes roam over her. The only things she might be embarrassed by are her current wounds, evidence that perhaps the dark mare isn't completely invincible, not quite protected by the Sun God. That is the bone that Inkheart wishes to pick the most. But, luckily for Bexley, the chestnut mare isn't the one responsible for such tragedies.
The shorter blue-eyed gal eyes the marking of Solis, seemingly barely able to tear her eyes away from Inkheart's chest. The look under the long eyelashes intensifies. Her question is almost snide but manages to stay on the side of genuine curiosity. "Au naturale." After all, if it was a tattoo, wouldn't everyone have one? It was better to keep that thought to herself rather than say it, for she couldn't guarantee that the answer to the rhetorical question would be one she'd want to hear. Inkheart looks over the other female, noticing very few blemishes or markings. "You look like you escaped the Teryr with little damage?" It's a straight observation, but has a hint of disdain to color her tone - a bit of resentment that Bexley could escape the terrible beast unscathed.
