S I M O
“A pretty name for a pretty lady, Messalina…” Simo said, his smile earnest as the damsel introduced herself. His bright gaze watched blithely as her eyes diverted, her tresses moving like flowers in the breeze against her skin. His realization of that gaze made him swallow with some difficulty, one of the tiny wings extending just enough to cover his face for a brief moment -- hopefully to hid the crimson stain that grew on his cheeks. “You flatter me.” He said, hoping she would think that his blush was from her kind words and not the lecherous thought that had crossed his mind just a moment before. “I am but a servant to the materials. It’s as though they sing a song, and I try my best to create the melody for them to sing with.” He did well not to stammer, though it was always easier for him to talk about his work. It was a subject he was comfortable with, and those that he met tended to be curious about it.
His gaze wandered again to the lady’s pearlescent skin -- a thing that he was sure was as smooth as a river-run stone. Her dappling was a compliment to her, rather than a blemish. He had the briefest, fuzziest memory of someone with spots in his mind’s eye -- though he doubted it could have been this woman. But who was it? And why did he think of them so suddenly, without any memory as to the context? The solterran-born took a deep breath and brought his attention back to her eyes, as lovely as the pale summer sky on Solis’ brightest day. He brushed back the entanglement of ivory and charcoal colored hair away from his face, the unruly bunch of tresses falling back into his face once more. The feathered appendages had put themselves to rest, furrowing beneath them tresses to seek out their warmth from the encroaching night.
“I suppose it could be.” He agreed, glancing around them towards the other booths. "I've never thought to look much at it during the day..." Some had come early, but others would not even grace the market until the stars began to shine. The last markets of the season were always crowded, and he hoped to garner a lot of business. He watched silently as she placed her satchel upon the counter, bringing out her coin one by one until a fair pile had gathered there next to the piece she had been admiring. He chuckled, meeting her eye briefly before reaching out to take just one of the coins she had offered. “I don’t give things away for free. But I can’t say that I’ve ever seen you before...and if you promise to tell your friends where you found this, I’ll accept this one signo.”
The storm-colored stallion flipped the coin, catching it again before it hit the ground. “What do you say, Messalina? Is that a fair trade? Your kind words for one of my pieces?”
@messalina sorry this took me so long!
coding by Avis
coding by Avis
