May the flowers remind us why the rain was necessary
In a world that had been turned upside down, having names to put upon the places somehow begins to make the transition easier. I mean, to be fair, it’s hard to make this sort of day easier, but progress is progress and she needs to take what she can get. Her affinity for conversation helps as well, and though eventually her astute ability to be forthcoming may prove to be inconvenient, right now she has nothing to hide. Why wouldn’t she try to carry on a discussion with anyone who would listen? Despite the fact that sometimes, a bit of silence was nice.
“The Sideralis Prairie,” she repeats, tasting the name upon her tongue, “of Novus.” Hm. So, little one, seems as though is may be the promised land the gods had offered upon their sacrifice. It seems nice enough, with the vast fields of golden grasses, and the softening scent of autumn. A smile returns to her lips as he dismisses her niceties. She enjoys the causual tone he places over the conversation. It helps relieve some of the pressure of talking to a stranger. Her honey eyes look out to where the performer gestured, and she drinks in the sight. Though no grandiose scene grew out of the ground before them, she could only imagine what adventure awaited past the confines of the prairie. There’s an entire world out there, and she wants to taste it. Perhaps the girl could find a home in the Night Court. Perhaps if Ktulu was gone forever, they would take her in…
“Sure,” she chirps, forcing her mind back to the conversation at hand. She begins to walk, her gait light and nearly a prance, hoping Acton may lead her, else she would most likely keep walking for miles until she could walk no more. “I’d love to. I can’t promise I’ll stay long. Me and my mother, we were wanderers back at home.” Again a pang of sadness strums upon her heartstrings. “Well, where home used to be. It’s not there anymore. There were a couple of herds, but we didn’t join any of them. I think Mama preferred the solitude that came with wandering. But I never asked.” Again she shrugs. The Constrictor had been a wanderer, an outcast, and though Akeli has never known why the woman chose the life as a vagabond, she never questioned it. Sometimes, people just wanted more than what a herd could offer. And that was enough for her. She looks to him, wanting to learn more about the stallion she was blindly following. Perhaps not the best idea, to follow a stranger home, but oh well. She had no reason to worry. Not yet, anyways.
“So what do you do here? You smell different, too—“ she punctuates the comment with a wink, as to not offend her new comrade, “—were you burning something? I don’t have magic to make fire, but I have my sparking rock. My Mother, well, my first one, it was hers.” She dips her head, displaying the tallest tine on her small rack of antlers, where a dull flint stone lays tightly secured with a sturdy thread of twine. “Do people here have magic?” A light laugh escapes her, and she looks to him playfully. She drapes the distraction of conversation over her worry like a heavy sheet, obscuring them from view. “Sorry for all of the questions. I guess it’s your unlucky day, having to deal with my inquisitions. But if I’m staying here for a while, I might as well learn a thing or two about the place.”
“The Sideralis Prairie,” she repeats, tasting the name upon her tongue, “of Novus.” Hm. So, little one, seems as though is may be the promised land the gods had offered upon their sacrifice. It seems nice enough, with the vast fields of golden grasses, and the softening scent of autumn. A smile returns to her lips as he dismisses her niceties. She enjoys the causual tone he places over the conversation. It helps relieve some of the pressure of talking to a stranger. Her honey eyes look out to where the performer gestured, and she drinks in the sight. Though no grandiose scene grew out of the ground before them, she could only imagine what adventure awaited past the confines of the prairie. There’s an entire world out there, and she wants to taste it. Perhaps the girl could find a home in the Night Court. Perhaps if Ktulu was gone forever, they would take her in…
“Sure,” she chirps, forcing her mind back to the conversation at hand. She begins to walk, her gait light and nearly a prance, hoping Acton may lead her, else she would most likely keep walking for miles until she could walk no more. “I’d love to. I can’t promise I’ll stay long. Me and my mother, we were wanderers back at home.” Again a pang of sadness strums upon her heartstrings. “Well, where home used to be. It’s not there anymore. There were a couple of herds, but we didn’t join any of them. I think Mama preferred the solitude that came with wandering. But I never asked.” Again she shrugs. The Constrictor had been a wanderer, an outcast, and though Akeli has never known why the woman chose the life as a vagabond, she never questioned it. Sometimes, people just wanted more than what a herd could offer. And that was enough for her. She looks to him, wanting to learn more about the stallion she was blindly following. Perhaps not the best idea, to follow a stranger home, but oh well. She had no reason to worry. Not yet, anyways.
“So what do you do here? You smell different, too—“ she punctuates the comment with a wink, as to not offend her new comrade, “—were you burning something? I don’t have magic to make fire, but I have my sparking rock. My Mother, well, my first one, it was hers.” She dips her head, displaying the tallest tine on her small rack of antlers, where a dull flint stone lays tightly secured with a sturdy thread of twine. “Do people here have magic?” A light laugh escapes her, and she looks to him playfully. She drapes the distraction of conversation over her worry like a heavy sheet, obscuring them from view. “Sorry for all of the questions. I guess it’s your unlucky day, having to deal with my inquisitions. But if I’m staying here for a while, I might as well learn a thing or two about the place.”
