pale flowers on his mantle, dark leaves on is hair
Dazzled and absolutely charmed, she grins from ear to ear under his praise and apparent wisdom. This man of starlight, this man of smoky dreams, this man of swamp-tree stalks and scattered starlight does not seem to mind her closeness. Only his head tilts and turns toward her painting when lips press against velveteen cheek. Soft hairs tickle her dark mouth and Juniper forces back the twitch of her lips before she retreats.
A moment of silence passes before he speaks again, and it has her twirling quickly back to move just in front of the image. Narrow are her eyes, drawn are the brows, and her nose moves dangerously close to the wet surface as she scrutinizes her own work. Finally, "I should hope not," Juniper states, looking into the swirling figure, following lines up the cliffs of great tentacles devouring the land. "I have never seen the ocean, to be honest, and monsters so rarely live in my swamps." There is a fondness in the way she speaks of those terrifying places that have been unexplored for so many years. Only the Ilati and few kelpies are rumored to brave it, yet she stands before him as in love with the whole of that wild tangle of land as she is with anything (anyone) else.
The wildness is as much on her skin as it is in the brush so dappled with color. "Should we look for it, you and I? I think the night could be a retched time, but Time never does wait for anyone in the end. Only we can choose, I suppose." For a moment the priestess is silent, lost in thought again.
All too soon Juniper shakes her head, swooping hair lifting from arched neck before settling in once more. "No, no that won't do tonight. I have to finish the painting, and you don't have a hint of proof you've done one! Have you - painted before that is? Would you join me? I'll let you give our tentacled friend a name if you'd like." Such childish wonder still rings in her voice, content and joy from the mundane, from the little things in life, seeps from her very soul. Juniper was born for these moments, for these little joys that bring a smile to her face.
She cannot help but answer him grin for grin, breathless with the splendor of his lips when they curl up, lost in the twinkle of Asterion's dark and mysterious eyes. While she wants to paint, wants to let everything that was pent up in the city out, she wishes to draw a laugh from him more, to see him smile again and again and again. Juniper wonders just what it would take as she looks up from beneath dark lashes, a coy glance given with a creeping smile once more.
A moment of silence passes before he speaks again, and it has her twirling quickly back to move just in front of the image. Narrow are her eyes, drawn are the brows, and her nose moves dangerously close to the wet surface as she scrutinizes her own work. Finally, "I should hope not," Juniper states, looking into the swirling figure, following lines up the cliffs of great tentacles devouring the land. "I have never seen the ocean, to be honest, and monsters so rarely live in my swamps." There is a fondness in the way she speaks of those terrifying places that have been unexplored for so many years. Only the Ilati and few kelpies are rumored to brave it, yet she stands before him as in love with the whole of that wild tangle of land as she is with anything (anyone) else.
The wildness is as much on her skin as it is in the brush so dappled with color. "Should we look for it, you and I? I think the night could be a retched time, but Time never does wait for anyone in the end. Only we can choose, I suppose." For a moment the priestess is silent, lost in thought again.
All too soon Juniper shakes her head, swooping hair lifting from arched neck before settling in once more. "No, no that won't do tonight. I have to finish the painting, and you don't have a hint of proof you've done one! Have you - painted before that is? Would you join me? I'll let you give our tentacled friend a name if you'd like." Such childish wonder still rings in her voice, content and joy from the mundane, from the little things in life, seeps from her very soul. Juniper was born for these moments, for these little joys that bring a smile to her face.
She cannot help but answer him grin for grin, breathless with the splendor of his lips when they curl up, lost in the twinkle of Asterion's dark and mysterious eyes. While she wants to paint, wants to let everything that was pent up in the city out, she wishes to draw a laugh from him more, to see him smile again and again and again. Juniper wonders just what it would take as she looks up from beneath dark lashes, a coy glance given with a creeping smile once more.
@Asterion | "speaks" | notes: ah ah ah, an oldy but a goody?
rallidae | art
