Shepherded by an extremely private and somber family, Midsommar often finds silence teaches her more than spoken word. But there is power in storytelling, as there is power in the stories told by generation after generation, and she quickly finds Gale's absentminded murmuring to be quite endearing. Inbetween Mother's melancholy murmuring and Father's recent anguished, angry cries, Sommar thinks the blue stallion must possess some new power, some secret brimming behind smiling teeth.
Sommar gasps out a laugh: a strange, stuttered, perhaps strangled noise. "I think Malachai would try to eat him. He takes offense easily," she answers as she turns a delighted indigo gaze to Gale. It's true: the maned wolf is company Sommar loves, even if he remains on a terribly pretentious high horse. He doesn't take kindly to strangers and even Draco is too much for him sometimes. Sommar doesn't divulge that, though - Malachai's particular nature isn't something she thinks to take too much consideration of as she is the exact opposite: constantly finding delight in the crass and strange.
Can you be quiet? You're yelling your thoughts at me, comes a distant projection from Malachai. She can sense his annoyance but brushes it off.
"I don't often watch the sunrise. Malachai and I are quite the night owls," Sommar says, musing to herself. "Though I am determined enough to wake for one if I want the view. Over the ocean, you say? I've seen the sunset over Silver Cove plenty of times, but never the sunrise. You're not from the Cove, though, Gale," she rambles as she watches the osprey settle into the blue stallion's mane. A distant smile curves her mouth upward as she wonders about how certain she can be he is not from the East. He has no Eastern smell and she is certain her cousins would have tales of this ram-horned man if he were to live with them.
"It's a pleasure, Gale," Sommar adds with a cock of her head, bemused smile coloring her tone. "And you, as well, Erne. What oceanic land do you call home?"
@[Gale]
Sommar gasps out a laugh: a strange, stuttered, perhaps strangled noise. "I think Malachai would try to eat him. He takes offense easily," she answers as she turns a delighted indigo gaze to Gale. It's true: the maned wolf is company Sommar loves, even if he remains on a terribly pretentious high horse. He doesn't take kindly to strangers and even Draco is too much for him sometimes. Sommar doesn't divulge that, though - Malachai's particular nature isn't something she thinks to take too much consideration of as she is the exact opposite: constantly finding delight in the crass and strange.
Can you be quiet? You're yelling your thoughts at me, comes a distant projection from Malachai. She can sense his annoyance but brushes it off.
"I don't often watch the sunrise. Malachai and I are quite the night owls," Sommar says, musing to herself. "Though I am determined enough to wake for one if I want the view. Over the ocean, you say? I've seen the sunset over Silver Cove plenty of times, but never the sunrise. You're not from the Cove, though, Gale," she rambles as she watches the osprey settle into the blue stallion's mane. A distant smile curves her mouth upward as she wonders about how certain she can be he is not from the East. He has no Eastern smell and she is certain her cousins would have tales of this ram-horned man if he were to live with them.
"It's a pleasure, Gale," Sommar adds with a cock of her head, bemused smile coloring her tone. "And you, as well, Erne. What oceanic land do you call home?"
@[Gale]