Mesnyi
H
e is flashy, with a pumpkin-orange burst of feathers like an exotic cockerel, his wings black and white striped as some salamander saying danger danger danger. Do not eat. She finds it funny, then, when he hardly even acknowledges her to pass the book. He towers above the mare, so the lavender tome must drift down, down, down to Mesnyi before she can take it in her grasp. She’s about to say something to draw him in - she can’t take in anymore - when he finally speaks. ”Are you color-coding, or…?” Mesnyi cracks a smile and dips her head coyly. A shrug wouldn’t have been her style. ”What’s it about?”
She looks down at the book thoughtfully. ”Metalworking for the Aspirant Jeweler. Not very exciting, is it?” She huffs. ”Truth be told, I was color-coding. I can’t read your language very well, so I thought I might pull something out and read it. I was rather looking for something on local song and dance. Perhaps the foxes led me astray.” The lavender mare lets her gaze travel up, up, up to where the stranger’s head is, and to the books beside it. The Blacksmith’s Encyclopedia. Alloys of the Worlds Over. Oriens’ Hammer.
”Are you a smith?”
@Hugo | "speaks" | notes: ☽☼☾
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
plotter
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