09-08-2018, 12:16 PM
She picks her head up slowly as he comes near, his body language certainly tells her he isn’t about to strike, or commit some terrible magical act – it is a simple approach, a friendly one, she ponders. She band an ear back with thought, keeping one on him, her wings twitching nervously. She nods to his name, his greeting is familiar and polite, she analyzes. Her big, abnormally big, eyes blink in slow motion, watching him carefully as he speaks again. This time both ears flick backward, not flat, but just backward for a moment before she lets a single golden ear face forward.
“Olea.” She speaks soft, like a breeze. It melts from her rather than spilling, or smacking the air. She doesn’t speak often, but does not harbor any inability to do so when prompted either. Her language is her body, her eyes, and only sometimes her smooth, warm satin voice.
“Born here.” She starts to smile now, looking over the glow of his points. Her eyes find his again, you were too, I see. She blinks.
Oleandar
the moth-child of elysium & city
@[Snout]