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
She turns my gaze skyward as soft words float down to meet delicate, smooth lobes. A light, cream colored pegasus descends from the colorful sky, alighting not more than few strides away from the ebony and gold mare. Nares flare as she breathes in the floral perfume of the other dame. She stands still, locks lifting in a light breeze (thought weighted down by sheer volume), and listens for the remainder of the mare's speech - or intermittent speech. "Disturbing our dust." But dust is meant to be disturbed - disturbed and swept away to reveal the world beneath. Those that cherish the dust deserve to be swept away and buried with it.
"Come to see us at our finest?" Clearly referring to Inkheart's choice in time to visit. Of course she had not entirely planned to visit at that exact time of day; it had simply worked out the way. "Like what you see?" Crown tilts in thought but without answering. The mare knows where her home is, where her heart and soul belong. The land of Terrastella does not call to her and beckon the way Solterra does. Nothing ever will, and she is more than certain of that.
Amethyst orbs meet gold and they hold for a moment, silently weighing the other, trying to see beneath the surface. "Eyes are the window to the soul" they say. But that is assuming no curtains or tints to obscure the view. And oh the shade held as a barrier can be so great. The flowery lass looks over Inkheart's form and markings, noticing the gold upon the Friesian's chest that she has learned clearly marks her as one of Solis's disciples. Finally she speaks. "I do not intend to hide."
She has never intended to hide. Instead she is the warrior disciple, the prophet and proselytizer coming to bring everyone worthy into the fold. And they will be brought into the fold, or be banished. (Up to you to decide what 'banished' means.) A thoughtful expression dances across the mare's delicate face. As she takes a step toward the local (presumably, by her words), the cream and orange tinted lass lifts a feathered appendage and petals fall upon ebony and gold locks. They stick there, catching upon the strands of hair and settling, waiting to be shaken loose.
But she doesn't shake them loose. No, the petals don't seem to faze her, as she continues to examine the local pegasus. The young lass is much more talkative than Inkheart, and her youthful appearance puts her not much but perhaps a little younger than Ink. "No, I am not here on business." Well, sort of. She supposes that her desire to gather information was a sort of.. business. Her own personal business. "I am here to learn more of Terrastella. I assume you are a local." There is condescension that colors the end of that statement, that floats in her gaze. But only careful observers could possibly catch it. It is mild, without the full force of superiority that Ink carries with her. "I want to know about your... beliefs, your religion, who rules you."
She has not met the ruler of Solterra yet, but she knows that sovereigns have been established. Word travels fast in Novus, and her time wandering here had told her how to listen for such whispering. She has come to learn about the land and its people - to know. Because knowledge... is power.
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