O C E A N E
There's just something about demure, unpretentious, self-deprecating humor that Oceane has always found to be particularly amusing. Falling from Soran's lips, a man who'd seemed upon first introductions quite troubled about where he was and where he was going, the jest catches Oceane off guard. Surprised laughter drips unexpectedly from her lavender muzzle and she bashfully turns her head away until she's able to regain control of the hard lines on her face.
"Quite dangerous, those fickle minds," she responds with something edging on merriment as molten amber eyes return to connect with the scar-eyed stallion.
He responds to her inquiry without hesitation or contention; there is nothing hidden behind the deep blue of his eyes and nothing precarious or troublesome in his tone. Simply here to speak his truth, Oceane listens politely to Soran's speech. She laughs again, good-naturedly, when he mentions Desire and her curiosity — though perhaps contrary to what the stallion had been hoping for, the opalescent mare's eyes shift instinctively to the scars that line his face and then slip to the ones visible on his muscled frame from this angle.
'And what of my curosity?' she wants to ask him, but she holds her tongue and decides that she will wait until a more opportune time to inquire about the healed wounds he seems so determined not to talk about.
Oceane nods at his request and her eyes soften, "It was a little over a year ago that I was in a spot similar to yours," she offers in acquiescence. Pivoting to face the same direction as Soran, the sun shines bright against the opal sheen of her coat. "Come," Oceane requests as she begins to meander forward and away from the hot springs, her pregnancy causing restlessness in her legs once again, "and I'll tell you about Beqanna."
Once they are in comfortable step, side-by-side with his unfamiliar-yet-enticing scent accosting her nostrils periodically, she tells him what she knows about the land of Beqanna and the magic of the fairies who inhabit it, despite the secrecy of their appearances and names. Ensuring that she includes mention of the magic the residents also behold, the balefire Oceane takes special care to avoid speaking on her own ability.
There will be time, perhaps when he tells her the history of his scars, that she will demonstrate what the fairies have bestowed upon her.
She explains the concept of the kingdoms and those territories that fall within their political hold, adding in the names of those rulers she knows and those she has only heard of. "And that brings me to Loess," she adds with obvious pride laced into the words, "Protected by Castile, it's the kingdom that commands dominion of both the Pampas and Sylva."
She pauses then, searching for more information to give him but finding nothing of true import. "What else can I tell you of my home, Soran? Or perhaps you'd like to tell me about yours."
Soran | "SPEECH"
"Quite dangerous, those fickle minds," she responds with something edging on merriment as molten amber eyes return to connect with the scar-eyed stallion.
He responds to her inquiry without hesitation or contention; there is nothing hidden behind the deep blue of his eyes and nothing precarious or troublesome in his tone. Simply here to speak his truth, Oceane listens politely to Soran's speech. She laughs again, good-naturedly, when he mentions Desire and her curiosity — though perhaps contrary to what the stallion had been hoping for, the opalescent mare's eyes shift instinctively to the scars that line his face and then slip to the ones visible on his muscled frame from this angle.
'And what of my curosity?' she wants to ask him, but she holds her tongue and decides that she will wait until a more opportune time to inquire about the healed wounds he seems so determined not to talk about.
Oceane nods at his request and her eyes soften, "It was a little over a year ago that I was in a spot similar to yours," she offers in acquiescence. Pivoting to face the same direction as Soran, the sun shines bright against the opal sheen of her coat. "Come," Oceane requests as she begins to meander forward and away from the hot springs, her pregnancy causing restlessness in her legs once again, "and I'll tell you about Beqanna."
Once they are in comfortable step, side-by-side with his unfamiliar-yet-enticing scent accosting her nostrils periodically, she tells him what she knows about the land of Beqanna and the magic of the fairies who inhabit it, despite the secrecy of their appearances and names. Ensuring that she includes mention of the magic the residents also behold, the balefire Oceane takes special care to avoid speaking on her own ability.
There will be time, perhaps when he tells her the history of his scars, that she will demonstrate what the fairies have bestowed upon her.
She explains the concept of the kingdoms and those territories that fall within their political hold, adding in the names of those rulers she knows and those she has only heard of. "And that brings me to Loess," she adds with obvious pride laced into the words, "Protected by Castile, it's the kingdom that commands dominion of both the Pampas and Sylva."
She pauses then, searching for more information to give him but finding nothing of true import. "What else can I tell you of my home, Soran? Or perhaps you'd like to tell me about yours."
i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by