paint it black; any

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails Nayl basks in the satisfaction of having broken his stony expression. There, with his face like onyx, a feeble grin forms. It seems brief and it’s much softer than the voice that follows. Brusque and masculine she drinks in the sound and sight of him before forcing herself to glance away idly. They both lack experience in conversation, nonetheless, they still remain here, hopeful that they will break their personal streaks. The meadow around them is busy, but she can still easily hear him above them all. At first, she turns her attention back to him and searches his eyes before following them toward the mountainside. Even after he has indicated it Nayl is still distantly staring and wondering how life must be feral and away from politics, away from any problems. ”I’ve found myself in solitude in Nerine,” she admits with a hint of sourness in her voice, Everyone that collaborated to help find the land have all disappeared. It has been just me wandering a long stretch of beach.” The way she says this makes it unclear whether she has hated or loved it. She isn’t particularly close to anyone who initially joined their band, but it doesn’t matter anymore since they have since disappeared. A mutiny could have been possible, but there is no way to gain support in an empty kingdom. A drawn-out breath escapes her. A plume of white coils from her nostrils as she blinks away the few snowflakes from her eyelids. She contemplates their predicament, their different lifestyles. He enjoys his freedom and isolation so she doesn’t yet offer him Nerine. Instead, she delves for questions to know him better. ”Did the Mountain take anything from you?” It has stolen from her pieces of her soul, but she has since recovered and accepted that it is what it is. Perhaps one day those pieces will be restored. Nayl covet and myrina's creation