10-21-2018, 01:42 PM
All tease and play, she can’t help but allow the smile to draw across her lips nor can she stop the way her brow seems to set and the mischief that gleams in those dark blue eyes. Aysel can only exist in that moment with those features, with red wavy forelock spread across her face and the mane dripping down her neck: splotched with areas of gray to break the vast earthy coloration. Built more akin to her Criollo roots she was muscular and compact, a creature whose body moved with lacking grace but a degree of strength. Such was seen as she shifted her weight, flexed the muscles well beneath the skin and allowed for her Magnus’ very own touch to brush away those wild hairs.
Dark blue and almost black, silver flecks circled the iris, and more so notable were the silvery almost lavender rings that looped the edges and seemed to shimmer in their own way. Peering calmly and quietly Aysel does not resist the touches to her face, the brush of a nose or breath that crosses her skin- instead she minds it with patience and a sort of intrigue. Still, it crosses her mind how the golden skin is warmer and Magnus’ form seems heavier and much bulkier: how by comparison his strength seemed so assured, just as his movements.
When she speaks its with the same lilt and accent, but there is a soberness to it- not an unpleasant or shock one, just something more grounded. “I look forward to seeing her blossom more, grow and become what she is meant to be- what she could’ve been many years ago. Are the residents younger? More untested? Or are they familiar with campaign and conquests?” she pauses, and waits for minutes, allowing him time to answer as she looks at him more directly than she had- to lift the great head and perk her ears.
“You can thank me when that day comes, flourish and growth.” more playful but still carrying a degree of subtly ferocity she inhales and steps forward, looking out and noting cracks where jungle and forest schismed and split: blackened by obsidian and frozen earth- ash. She smells the faint volcanic touches of the air and her gaze circles before turning to him with a distinct sort of feline voracity. “I ought tell you to mock battle me, test my old legs and self before I speak like the Warbringer I was… I could be.”
There is tease but also a devious challenge, a low rumbling that exists in her throat and chest: a smokey quality in her speaking that makes her voice different and yet the same. Not far from him, she still feels herself close and the touch of his side: the sun warmed skin and the heart that beat beneath his ribs. For a moment she is quiet, leaning to preen and brush the curve of his neck and shoulder, gentle kisses that were a thank you and more. “You still smell like the old Jungle, the moss and rocks- the vines and all the primal things. You’ve brought them here.” compliment or flattery, it mattered little, she enjoys it: enjoys his company.
Dark blue and almost black, silver flecks circled the iris, and more so notable were the silvery almost lavender rings that looped the edges and seemed to shimmer in their own way. Peering calmly and quietly Aysel does not resist the touches to her face, the brush of a nose or breath that crosses her skin- instead she minds it with patience and a sort of intrigue. Still, it crosses her mind how the golden skin is warmer and Magnus’ form seems heavier and much bulkier: how by comparison his strength seemed so assured, just as his movements.
When she speaks its with the same lilt and accent, but there is a soberness to it- not an unpleasant or shock one, just something more grounded. “I look forward to seeing her blossom more, grow and become what she is meant to be- what she could’ve been many years ago. Are the residents younger? More untested? Or are they familiar with campaign and conquests?” she pauses, and waits for minutes, allowing him time to answer as she looks at him more directly than she had- to lift the great head and perk her ears.
“You can thank me when that day comes, flourish and growth.” more playful but still carrying a degree of subtly ferocity she inhales and steps forward, looking out and noting cracks where jungle and forest schismed and split: blackened by obsidian and frozen earth- ash. She smells the faint volcanic touches of the air and her gaze circles before turning to him with a distinct sort of feline voracity. “I ought tell you to mock battle me, test my old legs and self before I speak like the Warbringer I was… I could be.”
There is tease but also a devious challenge, a low rumbling that exists in her throat and chest: a smokey quality in her speaking that makes her voice different and yet the same. Not far from him, she still feels herself close and the touch of his side: the sun warmed skin and the heart that beat beneath his ribs. For a moment she is quiet, leaning to preen and brush the curve of his neck and shoulder, gentle kisses that were a thank you and more. “You still smell like the old Jungle, the moss and rocks- the vines and all the primal things. You’ve brought them here.” compliment or flattery, it mattered little, she enjoys it: enjoys his company.
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] >:]