little pilgrim
the indian's axed your scalp
the indian's axed your scalp
S
he had prepared to meet them, thought about what she might say. My name is Elif and my country needs help. Or Please, whatever it is, I’ll return it when I’m done and Raum is dead and things are as they were. Or even What is this, exactly, so I know I’m not wasting my time? But Elif has never been good at acting how she ought, and so as soon as the woman turns toward her with her eyes flashing steel and her mouth curled like something smells terrible (which it doesn’t, everything is lovely here, smelling of rich black dirt and salt-sea and wildflowers) all her intentions fall out of her head.
Her spine goes straight, her dark ears flick uncertainly, and her neck arches like a marble statue of a girl. Elif wishes her green eyes were a fiercer color, something that flashed with heat. “By His light,” she returns, less mildly (oh, she has never been able to manage her tongue). Before she can decide how to answer the mare’s question - or decide what her tone means - they are joined by another, and the bay is a little relieved and a little irritated and a little intrigued. First there is the dagger, bright silver around her golden neck; but then there are the curls (a bit frazzled, not that Elif was one to judge with her woefully abbreviated hair) and the flowers that tumbled like a bower along her neck.
Somehow, with words alone, she manages to soften the situation (or at least Elif’s perspective of it). The droning of the bees becomes more musical, the sunshine less glaring, the mass of military pegasus (oh, what use they could be to Solterra!) less menacing.
Still she says nothing, suddenly shy and entirely out of her element. When the golden mare names the other, Elif’s green eyes turn to her with new and sharp interest. She has never before met a Commander of anything; she tries to be subtle, now, as she runs her gaze over the dark woman. She’s as interested in an answer to the flower-girl’s question as the asker herself - enough that it startles her to be addressed.
Curling her muzzle toward her chest, Elif shuffles her wings and shifts her gaze to Flora. Both of them are much taller than her; she tells herself but I am faster and hopes it is true.
“I am.” A beat; how much to say, how much to plead? “My name is Elif. I heard there was…something powerful gone missing here, something for battle. I thought if I could find it - ” As she searches for words, she takes in the field of soldiers, combing the grasses and the sky, all the holes dug in good soil. It seems ridiculous to think she might be the one to do anything, but she squares her shoulders and grits her teeth and turns her gaze back to both of them. “If I find it I could help Solterra.”
{ @Marisol @Florentine notes: idk what this is either but HERE <3 }
