↞ Meira ↠
Meira peers at the woman who is made of pale spun gold and ivory. She is kindness. The way her eyes convey worry, or compassion strikes Meira. Yet, she is uncertain of if she can trust this stranger. The one who promises to help, and she finds herself doubing the words that fall from her companion's lips. These are his promises. The way she refutes Meira's words is strange, as her question was rhetorical. Meira stares as she contemplates how to answer the woman made from spun gold. "I am well, though weary. I have traveled across Novus the past few days, so I am simply tired and needed a break." The seaborn child answers the woman. Her oceanic eyes peer into similar pools. The words confirming that this woman was a healer did not go unnoticed, although she was unsure of if they were meant for her ears.
Meira hoists herself upon her sore, tired feet. She is a few hands taller, her own frame is far more wild and unkempt in comparison. The earth-bound sea remains quiet for a few beats, flickering her thorns as the bodies of Terrastella equines filter in and out of the city gates. "I'm Meira, of Delumine." The introduction falls from her lips. It feels as awkward as it tastes against the back of her teeth. Like a wine that has not aged as well as its counterparts. Meira thinks to herself that she is lucky to be so far from Denocte here. He hates Terrastella, and for now, she is free of his memory. As long as she does not think of him. The earth-bound sea waits and listens for further prompting from the spun gold woman with hair made of ivory thread.
@Elena
Sorry this should get better ;__;
Meira hoists herself upon her sore, tired feet. She is a few hands taller, her own frame is far more wild and unkempt in comparison. The earth-bound sea remains quiet for a few beats, flickering her thorns as the bodies of Terrastella equines filter in and out of the city gates. "I'm Meira, of Delumine." The introduction falls from her lips. It feels as awkward as it tastes against the back of her teeth. Like a wine that has not aged as well as its counterparts. Meira thinks to herself that she is lucky to be so far from Denocte here. He hates Terrastella, and for now, she is free of his memory. As long as she does not think of him. The earth-bound sea waits and listens for further prompting from the spun gold woman with hair made of ivory thread.
@
Sorry this should get better ;__;
