you can hear when the heart stops
 | HELLO DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND
“Why not ask me directly,” she says, stepping deftly from a swirl of shadow she had conjured in the midst of the gathering. The shadows swirl around her – smokelike and unnatural – before they seem to seep into her skin and disappear. To say she was less than amused to be beckoned like this was an understatement. She did not fault the Pangeans for defending the border, but this mare had certainly attracted quite a crowd. She touches the shoulder first of Draco, and then of Ghaul before moving to stand between them. Mentally, she soothes the monsters – who she know wait eagerly at the prospect of chasing down an intruder.
“Well, well – what have we here?” she asks, dryly. Her cool gaze flickers between Draco, Ghaul, the winged child, her beautiful creatures, and the stranger. A strange combination, to be sure. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t some melodramatic rescue attempt.
She turns her cool gaze upon the stranger – this mare who has come to their border with uncertain motives. The mare who claims to be both nomad and diplomat alike, a strange contradiction to be sure. The shadowmare does, however, find it amusing the woman perceives herself to be a threat. She is more likely to be perceived as a meal than a threat in these lands, but Anaxarete does not feel the need to clarify this misconception.
“So tell me, Ilma, are you a nomad…or a diplomat? And what is this proposition that brings you to our borders,” she says, coolly, wanting to both clarify and expedite the situation. She, like Ghaul and Draco alike, has her own suspicions as to why Ilma had come, but she wants to hear it directly from the source.
She wants an explanation for these demands and accusations made at her border.
And she wants them now.
A N A X A R E T E |
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