10-12-2016, 02:24 PM
He watches, holding her gaze and saying nothing for a long moment. And Revol’s blue eyes narrow infinitesimally. By all that once was holy, if he withholds his name she’s going to give up on males entirely. Impossible, the lot of them. He takes a step closer, grey eyes intense as he stares into her, studying her as though he’s trying to read her life story in her eyes. But it’s not until he speaks his name that she relaxes, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lior,” she replies, and now that he’s not quite a stranger, she gives into the urge to give him a quick once-over. Black as the sky on a moonless winter night, well-built in an elegantly handsome sort of way. Long hair spills down his thickly muscled neck. The feathering on his lower legs is a bit lighter than hers, the weight and texture of it accenting the strength of his limbs.
No markings mar that perfect black, no stars scattered across the night sky canvas of his coat, only his pale grey eyes staring into hers as he asks what brings her here. Tilting her head, she raises a hoof and glances down at it. “Wandering feet,” she answers, and it’s half true. Almost, anyhow. With a sigh and a shrug, she adds, “and a bit of a bruised heart.” Not broken. It might ache, it might feel heavy and hurt like it had never hurt before, but she wouldn’t let it be broken. Not over something that had clearly been nothing to...well, to him anyhow.
“What about you?” she asks, eager to change the subject and distract herself from amber eyes, determined not to see them filling with disgust again. It’s over, it’s done, and there’s no use dwelling on it. Best to find something else to occupy her attention. “What brings you here?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lior,” she replies, and now that he’s not quite a stranger, she gives into the urge to give him a quick once-over. Black as the sky on a moonless winter night, well-built in an elegantly handsome sort of way. Long hair spills down his thickly muscled neck. The feathering on his lower legs is a bit lighter than hers, the weight and texture of it accenting the strength of his limbs.
No markings mar that perfect black, no stars scattered across the night sky canvas of his coat, only his pale grey eyes staring into hers as he asks what brings her here. Tilting her head, she raises a hoof and glances down at it. “Wandering feet,” she answers, and it’s half true. Almost, anyhow. With a sigh and a shrug, she adds, “and a bit of a bruised heart.” Not broken. It might ache, it might feel heavy and hurt like it had never hurt before, but she wouldn’t let it be broken. Not over something that had clearly been nothing to...well, to him anyhow.
“What about you?” she asks, eager to change the subject and distract herself from amber eyes, determined not to see them filling with disgust again. It’s over, it’s done, and there’s no use dwelling on it. Best to find something else to occupy her attention. “What brings you here?”