03-26-2023, 07:00 PM
ISRAFEL
Someone else approaches, and there is still a smile on her golden face when she turns to look at him - thinking first that he too had come over to admire the flowers, because they are so fore-front in her mind she assumes they must be in everyone else’s. When he apologies, and then leaves a thought half-finished, Israfel’s peaceful bliss crumbles into confusion and something that dances along the line of worry and fear.
Her instinct is to apologize back to him, though for what she isn’t sure. She glances around herself, as though to try to find a clue about what she had done wrong, but she finds nothing. They are out in the open so she cannot possibly be in his way, and it doesn’t look as though she has trampled on anything more important than a few blades of grass.
So she looks back up at him, lost and a little wide-eyed, offering a quiet “I didn’t mean to.” Which would hopefully cover whatever grievance she might have accidentally caused.
Israfel is familiar with the feeling she is experiencing now, like the ground may slide out from underneath her gilded hooves at any given second. She’d come out here in the open for a purpose, and despite the uncertainty of this beginning, she doesn’t want this stranger to leave and force her to start all over again.
In an attempt to find her footing again, she changes the subject back to where her thoughts had been originally - gesturing to the blossoms between them. “They are pretty, aren’t they?”
Her instinct is to apologize back to him, though for what she isn’t sure. She glances around herself, as though to try to find a clue about what she had done wrong, but she finds nothing. They are out in the open so she cannot possibly be in his way, and it doesn’t look as though she has trampled on anything more important than a few blades of grass.
So she looks back up at him, lost and a little wide-eyed, offering a quiet “I didn’t mean to.” Which would hopefully cover whatever grievance she might have accidentally caused.
Israfel is familiar with the feeling she is experiencing now, like the ground may slide out from underneath her gilded hooves at any given second. She’d come out here in the open for a purpose, and despite the uncertainty of this beginning, she doesn’t want this stranger to leave and force her to start all over again.
In an attempt to find her footing again, she changes the subject back to where her thoughts had been originally - gesturing to the blossoms between them. “They are pretty, aren’t they?”
