Nöelle has begun to find their proximity nearly comical. Between the mare’s shifting glances on the guards, and the excited prancing – she is both uncomfortable and bemused by their closeness. “People here seem to be quite understanding.” Her smile softens. “I think the gifts are… customary but not mandatory? Though I could be wrong,” she muses allowed.
“Your wreath is gorgeous, did you make it?”
She hums briefly with a small nod, staring up at the statue. Wondering if her figure might peel back stone for flesh, and jeweled orbs for real ones. “I did. For someone else,” the mare admits with a heavy breath, quiet.
Nöelle regards Regina, though – with as much comfort as she can muster. There isn’t much space to turn her head, and instead raises it to avoid bumping the youth. “Regina was it? It’s no bother to me, honestly. I could show you around town if you would like?” Eager to depart from Vespara’s listless gaze, the mare turns around. Moving along the edges of the courtyard, and avoiding the swelling of locals and travelers filling the area.
She glances back to see if her peculiar acquaintance has followed along. “Oh – I’m Nöelle. I’ve only been around Terrastella since the winter. You have the pleasure of seeing her ripe and joyful; while the weather holds.” A half grin sharpens the expression against her mug. Focusing back on the path ahead.
The air is sweet with the hint of baked goods and sweetened treats. The locals are merry, and the sound of music permeates the air. It is far from a ruined world, far from decay and death and the helpless.
“Where do you come from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
It wasn’t out of the ordinary to expect foreigners – especially now, with the harvest in full swing.
Souls from all four corners of Novus. Perhaps beyond.
“Your wreath is gorgeous, did you make it?”
She hums briefly with a small nod, staring up at the statue. Wondering if her figure might peel back stone for flesh, and jeweled orbs for real ones. “I did. For someone else,” the mare admits with a heavy breath, quiet.
Nöelle regards Regina, though – with as much comfort as she can muster. There isn’t much space to turn her head, and instead raises it to avoid bumping the youth. “Regina was it? It’s no bother to me, honestly. I could show you around town if you would like?” Eager to depart from Vespara’s listless gaze, the mare turns around. Moving along the edges of the courtyard, and avoiding the swelling of locals and travelers filling the area.
She glances back to see if her peculiar acquaintance has followed along. “Oh – I’m Nöelle. I’ve only been around Terrastella since the winter. You have the pleasure of seeing her ripe and joyful; while the weather holds.” A half grin sharpens the expression against her mug. Focusing back on the path ahead.
The air is sweet with the hint of baked goods and sweetened treats. The locals are merry, and the sound of music permeates the air. It is far from a ruined world, far from decay and death and the helpless.
“Where do you come from, if you don’t mind me asking?”
It wasn’t out of the ordinary to expect foreigners – especially now, with the harvest in full swing.
Souls from all four corners of Novus. Perhaps beyond.
