Arah HAPPINESS CAN AWLWAYS BE FOUND EVEN IN THE DARKEST OF TIMES; IF ONE ONLY REMEMBERS TO TURN ON THE LIGHT
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voice that curved either wickedly or inquisitively around her ivory coat brought her roughly out of her quiet moment. Suddenly the atmosphere had a weight. Dangerous, toying and all too tempting. Why did they all seem to want to play little games with her? Own narrowed perspective or a comment on the lovers, swindlers, poets and authorities she had engaged with during her time? ”I suppose." She responds softly to his query, her own tone like warm honeyed milk. Golden orbs surveying the patterned speaker, curious, not yet quite careful.
A softness, she would have liked to have confused with tenderness in the past, smoothed out the rugged handsome features. Like a wolf he watched her perched atop the vantage point. This was still anyone’s game, quick wit could yet negotiate her into a better vantage. Though she does feel at the mercy of his expense, at the moment she was his private joke. Glinting like the precious metal in the sunlight, not unlike her own, she was captured in his gaze. Though where he was pooling, burning molten she was reflective of, perhaps, a more genuine gold. ”As most of us are." An under current to her words, a coy little smile tugging at the curve of her delicately painted lips. Was one ever telling the truth if they believed themselves to be anything but lost? There were no clues as to what the universe had planned for the individual.
Wynter stared, icily, the freezing grip of her gaze hyper focused. A soft thrill from her feathered throat had her bonded moving closer. A movement reminiscent of a protective nature, though there was no concern fuel the thought. Instead the beast settled by her mistress, calm though certainly alert. Beneath her mistress’ tangled locks she ruffled her feathers, shaking out droplets that caught the light of sun. Good natured but short tempered she kept watch.
Unable to judge his emotions, Arah kept her own expressions painted softly. It was an odd match, to the doe, not quite competitive but not exactly comfortable. A spider? Another doe dressed with fangs? A wolf? He was certainly dressed the part, strength draped on a leaner frame of agility. Though he smelt...richly. Different to the other scents in the meadows. It was inviting, dancing and mixing with her sweeter earthy smell.
What role would she occupy, perhaps one that featured wisdom. An owl. Flighty. Far too often she’d fit the mould of the doe, bright eyed and caught in the crossfire. Hunted. Prized. Not seen as an actual soul but something that could be won.
The embrace of his gaze was not threatening. Even his summery tones suggested a warmer nature beneath the rugged exterior. Once dressed in nobility she now was the bare threads of herself. No longer dressed in finery, jewels or crowns she wad only draped in her shawl of intelligence. The outfit for the wolf, however, was not one of a predator. His softer vocals drew her in enough to escape wariness, but still not her carefulness. Old habits. For a moment she pondered his words, wondering if she had indeed found a home. The Dawn Court had been most welcoming, she had hoped it would become a home for her. Wynter pressed against her as her spoke in his sweetened tones again.
Was the wolf after her nature? Or what role in games she preferred to play?
”Well." Allowing some music into her tones she cast playful look in his direction before turning her nose away. Smoother than silk, slower than a lazy leaf fluttering to the ground she wove her way around a large oak tree. Like a shadow she can melted behind it, then as a vixen she gradually remerged. ”Lovers always have a gift for words." With a tiny coy smile she came to a stop beside the tree. Glancing at him and adopting a serious tone and expression she quickly added, ”I am no poet." Starting on her slow circle of the tree again, she spoke to him again from behind it, ”I suppose I could be a thief." For many years she had served the wicked darkness of her former home. Traded for freedoms and safeties at the expense of others. ”I have stolen secrets and trinkets before." Emerging from the tree she titled her head quizzically, though now she no longer fit beneath the label. A gentle warning of caution down the bond. ‘Darth-. Tir-.’ Rounding the tree again she spoke calmly to him from behind. ”A scoundrel? A rouge?" It was odd, the urge to deny him outright was eager. Was she? ”Mayhaps." Shaking the thought from her head as she moved different this time. Instead of emerging from behind the tree she took the a path that allowed her to move unseen. Should he not move, the silver doe would emerge behind him, equal ground. If he was paying enough attention he may note the flashes of her ivory coat through the trees. Nibble and silent footsteps carried her over the terrain. Always sure footed and agile.
Emerging from the trees in her new vantage, she now attempted to turn the game on him. ”What about you wolf?" She breathed softly. Powerful wing beats landed the griffin beside her mistress. A gentle breeze played with she scent. It was warm on her skin, glistening her silken coat in the rays of the sun. He was most unexpected. Not a brute, in fact she rather suspected a mind behind the deep eyes. Part of her enjoyed the game of the challenge, poking and toying was each other. Testing the limits and wit of the opponent. They danced to the quiet music of the stream. The doe knew however, that without care she would be dancing to the beat of the wolf’s music. ”What is in your nature?" While her tone was still light, there was an element of boldness to her words.
