10-13-2019, 07:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-13-2019, 07:32 PM by Neverwhere.)
The warning on Lilliana's voice causes her ears to pin. Even from her friend, Neverwhere dislikes an order, especially one whose root is dubious. The touch and the whisper tell her nothing useful, only that the chestnut wishes her to be silent, and her heart heaves against the trusses of her request like a wild thing in a trap. She bites her tongue, because it has been asked of her, and settles for a stony stare as the blue and gold stallion confirms his identity.
Wolfbane. The Taigan Commandant.
"Wolves." A hard word, coldly dropping from her lips like tempered glass, "Indeed?"
The name is familiar. She remembers that he is a relation of Heartfire, but she is unsure exactly how, had never bothered to ask. They certainly share the ability to make her distrust them. Although she misses fine details - his small, pointed, looks, his fangs and hungry smiles, she finds her dislike of him growing. Something in his scent, in his voice. It is almost inexplicable, perhaps, and the bald-faced mare turns her milky gaze on the chestnut mare as though to judge the sincerity of the banter she trades with him so easily. Instincts gathered from years traveling alone scream like claxons in her head, but nothing about the red mare suggests she feels the same way, that her teasing words are pretense. Neverwhere shakes her head. Of course they aren't, Lilliana is everybody's friend. She is a candle, drawing everyone out of the darkness indiscriminately.
But he is not my friend, Neverwhere thinks. She can track him easily because of the hard contrast of his stripes, and does so, ears swiveling, head turning, as he approaches them. Well, as he approaches Lilli, though the two mares are still close enough to touch. With every word, she can feel the focus shift and pull away until she is barely more than another bit of driftwood washed up on the beach, and she doesn't fight it.
Let them forget her.
Like the driftwood, she remains silent for a long while, shortened, bear-cub ears tracking the heavy sound of Wolfbane's footsteps in the sand, tracking his voice and the oil-slick of manipulation that coats his throat. Though his angles have smoothed, she maintains hers, and clouded eyes roll from across Lilliana's back as he speaks. Hounds of Hell and the Chamber and the Falls, it's Dreamer's talk, and he does not strike her as one. Not him, not this Wolfbane.
"Oh, the Boneyard. Well that sounds lovely." His congenial tone is met with a sudden smile that is not at all friendly and contins too many teeth, but her tone is cool, "Not at all, I came this way with Heartfire in Spring."
And as she levels her ruined gaze to where she can only assume it will meet his, she wonders if he is here to snuff out her friend's light, or set the forest ablaze.
@[lilliana] @[Wolfbane]
Wolfbane. The Taigan Commandant.
"Wolves." A hard word, coldly dropping from her lips like tempered glass, "Indeed?"
The name is familiar. She remembers that he is a relation of Heartfire, but she is unsure exactly how, had never bothered to ask. They certainly share the ability to make her distrust them. Although she misses fine details - his small, pointed, looks, his fangs and hungry smiles, she finds her dislike of him growing. Something in his scent, in his voice. It is almost inexplicable, perhaps, and the bald-faced mare turns her milky gaze on the chestnut mare as though to judge the sincerity of the banter she trades with him so easily. Instincts gathered from years traveling alone scream like claxons in her head, but nothing about the red mare suggests she feels the same way, that her teasing words are pretense. Neverwhere shakes her head. Of course they aren't, Lilliana is everybody's friend. She is a candle, drawing everyone out of the darkness indiscriminately.
But he is not my friend, Neverwhere thinks. She can track him easily because of the hard contrast of his stripes, and does so, ears swiveling, head turning, as he approaches them. Well, as he approaches Lilli, though the two mares are still close enough to touch. With every word, she can feel the focus shift and pull away until she is barely more than another bit of driftwood washed up on the beach, and she doesn't fight it.
Let them forget her.
Like the driftwood, she remains silent for a long while, shortened, bear-cub ears tracking the heavy sound of Wolfbane's footsteps in the sand, tracking his voice and the oil-slick of manipulation that coats his throat. Though his angles have smoothed, she maintains hers, and clouded eyes roll from across Lilliana's back as he speaks. Hounds of Hell and the Chamber and the Falls, it's Dreamer's talk, and he does not strike her as one. Not him, not this Wolfbane.
"Oh, the Boneyard. Well that sounds lovely." His congenial tone is met with a sudden smile that is not at all friendly and contins too many teeth, but her tone is cool, "Not at all, I came this way with Heartfire in Spring."
And as she levels her ruined gaze to where she can only assume it will meet his, she wonders if he is here to snuff out her friend's light, or set the forest ablaze.
@[lilliana] @[Wolfbane]
