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It didn't take long, just as Mantis assumed.
A girl turns the corner. Her coat is bright chestnut, nearly golden, but dipped orange in the sunset light. White reaches past her knees on every leg and sits upon her face as well and a scar reaches from her left eye to her mouth. Mantis takes a step back, bracing for impact, as the golden mare lurches into a full stop, nearly falling into Mantis. Only a hair's width left between their bodies, Mantis is quick to gain her personal space back and breathes in. She smells rose water.
Mantis doesn't have much time to think about it, though, as the girl launches into berating her for standing in the middle of the street, irritation simmering in her blue stare that snaps up to stare into Mantis' own golden one. Mantis raises her eyebrows. Did no one nowadays teach their children respect anymore? She had such high hopes for this one, thinking maybe she was raised well, going from her noble coat color and the golden necklace upon her neck - but then again, her build was short and stocky, so maybe she was just a commoner trying to fit in with royalty. She refrained from curling her lips up in distaste.
Apparently the girl noticed that Mantis' face was unknown for her, as she stops in her talk to examine her face. Mantis easily schools her expression into one of trained neutrality. She had hoped for her first encounter to be bearable at least, but she doesn't like this one already - no reason to show it, though.
Mantis nearly snorts at the way the girl covers up her annoyance, favoring a tight-lipped smile instead of her irked expression. Ah, at least a bit of common decency. 'You're new, hm. Welcome to Solterra.' Mantis sees no reason not to, so she nods, careful to make it steady. Strangers are usually not fine-tuned enough to catch onto Mantis' body language, so she keeps it simple and straightforward. Back at home, her muteness was never a problem. Her people were trained enough to read her facial expressions. In this new land, she couldn't be sure of it.
When she was younger, Mantis used to wish she could talk. Ask questions. Berate others. But over time, she learned how to conceal this uneasiness. How to communicate without words, but not make her body language too easy to read. There's a fine line between unconscious mannerisms and clear communication in body language - nowadays, Mantis knows how to control her gestures enough to not let anything slip. In return, it gets blurry for others sometimes. She can't find it in herself to care for it, though. Being mute is a great excuse for staring holes into the air.
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