A shy creature might balk beneath Gale's staring, but Midsommar has never been one to hesitate. The dark indigo of her eyes roils with thought upon and thought and she finds herself wondering what could he possibly be thinking in all this silence? Not that Sommar is a stranger to silence or uncomfortable company, but she doesn't often start a conversation for it to be ended so abruptly, being the persistent creature she is. It strikes, rather suddenly, that she hasn't been reading his thoughts this entire interaction - and for the briefest moment, she feels so silly for wondering what he is thinking.
When she opens her magic to take just the barest peek into Gale's mind, Sommar finds he thinks she's pretty. A rush of pleasure heats her cheeks, a sensation she is very starkly aware she is not familiar with. Now she stutters, almost uncertain, head tilting just a degree. If Gale looks closely enough, he'll see the little startled signs in her face: a crease in the corner of her eyes, tightly pressed lips, and slightly flickering ears. Sommar doesn't rear away from the feeling, instead diving deep and finding the sensation leaves her heart pounding in loud, sporadic bursts.
Please shut up, Malachai says, very suddenly interrupting the pleasant headiness Sommar let intoxicate her. She whips her head around, genuinely miffed by her companion's cattiness. Perhaps you don't like the attention being off of you, Malachai? she answers with a question that might be just as catty if Sommar were not a genuine and curious girl. The wolf does not answer, but Sommar hardly notices.
I think you might be prettier than this sunset.
"Oh?" she answers, voice lilting in that way questions do. The pleasure from returns, though this time Sommar is ready for it and it merely warms her skin supple, excited waves. She's flattered, truly, being a plain, chestnut mind-reader born into a fantastical family.
It's not often that Sommar is struck speechless, but she quickly finds that oh is all she can muster in the moment. She settles an intense, fascinated gaze on Gale and tries spectacularly hard to come up with words: "I think you're pretty, too." She does. He's as blue as the sky, striped with sparkling and irridescent white to offer little clouds. "I like that your mane goes all the way down your back. It's cool," she adds soon after, very suddenly finding her words.
"But no, actually, I'm from Pangea. My father used to rule there. What's Islandres like? Does Erne find good hunting there?"
@[Gale]
When she opens her magic to take just the barest peek into Gale's mind, Sommar finds he thinks she's pretty. A rush of pleasure heats her cheeks, a sensation she is very starkly aware she is not familiar with. Now she stutters, almost uncertain, head tilting just a degree. If Gale looks closely enough, he'll see the little startled signs in her face: a crease in the corner of her eyes, tightly pressed lips, and slightly flickering ears. Sommar doesn't rear away from the feeling, instead diving deep and finding the sensation leaves her heart pounding in loud, sporadic bursts.
Please shut up, Malachai says, very suddenly interrupting the pleasant headiness Sommar let intoxicate her. She whips her head around, genuinely miffed by her companion's cattiness. Perhaps you don't like the attention being off of you, Malachai? she answers with a question that might be just as catty if Sommar were not a genuine and curious girl. The wolf does not answer, but Sommar hardly notices.
I think you might be prettier than this sunset.
"Oh?" she answers, voice lilting in that way questions do. The pleasure from returns, though this time Sommar is ready for it and it merely warms her skin supple, excited waves. She's flattered, truly, being a plain, chestnut mind-reader born into a fantastical family.
It's not often that Sommar is struck speechless, but she quickly finds that oh is all she can muster in the moment. She settles an intense, fascinated gaze on Gale and tries spectacularly hard to come up with words: "I think you're pretty, too." She does. He's as blue as the sky, striped with sparkling and irridescent white to offer little clouds. "I like that your mane goes all the way down your back. It's cool," she adds soon after, very suddenly finding her words.
"But no, actually, I'm from Pangea. My father used to rule there. What's Islandres like? Does Erne find good hunting there?"
@[Gale]