Israfel offered the roan an upwards quirk of the lips in return to his welcoming. It was formal and polite and all that necessary nonsense when hosting an event, but she didn’t mind. After all, it wasn’t like the Sun Daughter had much of a desire for unnecessary conversation. It really wasn’t her style. Regardless, she felt herself relaxing with a roll of a pale shoulder, the uptight joints in her wings growing lax and drooping more solidly against her sides.
“Florentine’s a blessing. I remember when she was chosen to rule in Rannveig’s place. It was a wise decision; Flora’s done nothing but better Terrastella with her passionate rule.” Once, she might not have agreed. Once, Israfel was certain her fury would have driven her to mutiny, to abandon her post and her Court. It was a moment that now filled her with shame, but things had changed. She had changed. Funny, that even after dying and being reborn once already, one would only continue to change.
Ulric’s inquiry caused her to raise a brow, and the weight of her burning stare redirected to focus on the militaristic roan. “Uh, let’s see… I arrived last summer, I believe. Just before fall settled.” A whole year. It was hard to believe. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time, and Israfel couldn’t help but wonder what the next year would bring. Happiness? Grief? It was hard to tell.
At the topic of what Terrastella was like, however, the Warden’s easy-going smile melted into a thoughtful frown. How could she summarize the typical tranquil peace of her homeland? Or the now mounting tension between Dusk and Night? Then again, that was all politics, and Israfel did her best to stay far, far away from such drowsy topics. “It’s… Beautiful, if I’m being honest. I’m proud to call Terrastella my home. It’s a different type of beauty than Delumine, that’s for sure, but… It’s peaceful, in its own ways. The sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs, the sweet smell of the prairie grass… I can easily find myself getting lost in the world when I’m on patrol.” Then, the Sun Daughter’s rosy pink nose wrinkled in disgust. “… I’m not a fan of the Tinea Swamp, though. It’s far too muggy for my liking, and the stench. I can’t stand it.”
Deciding to needle a bit of information out of the Delumine Warden, Israfel found herself grinning lazily once more. In an action that could have been perceived as completely innocent or teasingly coy, the pale shield-maiden gave a flick of her tail, the rich golden ends swatting against Ulric’s hocks. “And you? Have you lived in Dawn your whole life?”
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