10-15-2018, 03:41 AM
In another life, another place- she’d have drawn a cigarette to her lips: tasted the nicotine and smoke… smelled the faint whiskey in glasses and likely been privy to the dim lights of some bar in the city; but here? Here she is standing, and Aysel watches, notes and waits before creeping forward slowly and in boldness, pressing her shoulder gently against his own. Like the same feline nature possessed of others her side slides against his own body, those sculpted muscles flexing and the warmth of the skin left to linger. She rounds and stops only her body is positioned next to him, close enough to tenderly reach out and try to use the velveteen nose to brush away loose bits of his mane… or at least attempt to.
“Flood, ah-” she pauses, her expression softened but steady, and there is a moment where she expresses grief in a way, her own, to his words. “It would be nature come to reclaim what we made our own. That is the way of this life, you carve out your piece: your home, your family, and you decorate it- add to it and it is yours. Yet? It is not, time and nature have a way of entwining to remind us that what we have is only a thing of borrowed existence.” though the deep Parisian accent rumbles in her voice, there is a tenderness that translates in the slur and lilt.
Aysel’s eyes looking his face over and her body stretching as she lingered so close. “Still, it is not impossible to see the dead: not here. You may in time see her again, but regardless her spirits rests for now: and you live. So, sorrow not son of the Jungles: leopard, jaguar, panther- Magnus. It is impressive to hear these recollections of the lands and while yes the sisterhood of Nerine is familiar- safe, and something my heart will certainly long for eventually…” silence takes her suddenly, those dark eyes staring and her ears pressing backwards.
She hesitates; but not for any reason visible, instead it is a nervous chuckle that interrupts and she continues only after shaking her head and thinking on the vast wealth of information. “But now, right now, you have presented so many opportunities and so much knowledge of this changing place. Your Tephra sounds like it needs soldiers, leaders, and those willing to turn it into the image of its full potential. I recall a few times when the Sisters would assist in stabilizing kingdoms first, to secure not only alliances but to know the roots of that land and the inhabitants of it. Prague asked me to do that once, to go to a young leader and help their stability.”
Though she shrugs, her mind roves and wanders: thoughts of the Chamber, of the Gates, of the Amazons, and of the many lands that visited; but these dreamy things do not soften her, and she aches. Pain, like a dagger, the blade twisting in her heart and her throat too dry to scream. Slowly Aysel closes her eyes, breathing and looking to Magnus after moments with a kind of smile that was genuine and lacking predatory nature. “In time, take me to these places: Loess, Hyaline, Nerine, Sylva, and Ischia- and you and I can stand and talk, visit and learn… see the world together with a different perspective; but for now I think you would more obliged to take me back to Tephra, where I can help defend that which exists. I do ache for war; but also, for the humidity and warmth of a climate familiar to my old bones.”
Laughter, childlike and loud, her head tossed back and Aysel’s sudden lack of decorum came and went: before fading back into a simple postured stance close to him. Without hesitation she tilted her head, contemplated and surveyed him with all the intrigue and curiosity she possessed.
“Flood, ah-” she pauses, her expression softened but steady, and there is a moment where she expresses grief in a way, her own, to his words. “It would be nature come to reclaim what we made our own. That is the way of this life, you carve out your piece: your home, your family, and you decorate it- add to it and it is yours. Yet? It is not, time and nature have a way of entwining to remind us that what we have is only a thing of borrowed existence.” though the deep Parisian accent rumbles in her voice, there is a tenderness that translates in the slur and lilt.
Aysel’s eyes looking his face over and her body stretching as she lingered so close. “Still, it is not impossible to see the dead: not here. You may in time see her again, but regardless her spirits rests for now: and you live. So, sorrow not son of the Jungles: leopard, jaguar, panther- Magnus. It is impressive to hear these recollections of the lands and while yes the sisterhood of Nerine is familiar- safe, and something my heart will certainly long for eventually…” silence takes her suddenly, those dark eyes staring and her ears pressing backwards.
She hesitates; but not for any reason visible, instead it is a nervous chuckle that interrupts and she continues only after shaking her head and thinking on the vast wealth of information. “But now, right now, you have presented so many opportunities and so much knowledge of this changing place. Your Tephra sounds like it needs soldiers, leaders, and those willing to turn it into the image of its full potential. I recall a few times when the Sisters would assist in stabilizing kingdoms first, to secure not only alliances but to know the roots of that land and the inhabitants of it. Prague asked me to do that once, to go to a young leader and help their stability.”
Though she shrugs, her mind roves and wanders: thoughts of the Chamber, of the Gates, of the Amazons, and of the many lands that visited; but these dreamy things do not soften her, and she aches. Pain, like a dagger, the blade twisting in her heart and her throat too dry to scream. Slowly Aysel closes her eyes, breathing and looking to Magnus after moments with a kind of smile that was genuine and lacking predatory nature. “In time, take me to these places: Loess, Hyaline, Nerine, Sylva, and Ischia- and you and I can stand and talk, visit and learn… see the world together with a different perspective; but for now I think you would more obliged to take me back to Tephra, where I can help defend that which exists. I do ache for war; but also, for the humidity and warmth of a climate familiar to my old bones.”
Laughter, childlike and loud, her head tossed back and Aysel’s sudden lack of decorum came and went: before fading back into a simple postured stance close to him. Without hesitation she tilted her head, contemplated and surveyed him with all the intrigue and curiosity she possessed.
A Y S E L
so you can throw me to the wolves
tomorrow i will come back, leader of the whole pack
tomorrow i will come back, leader of the whole pack
@[magnus] oh man mag boy hope he likes chainsmoking angry french women