01-29-2022, 04:13 PM
Lillibet
Under the microscope of Fyr’s saffron eyes, Lillibet thrives. She meets his analytical gaze directly, her amusement ever-present as she remains silent in the time he mulls over her name. Lilybee, he finally decides and she lifts a brow at the nickname and his accompanying smarmy grin. She’d never been given a nickname - from someone outside her family, at least. It feels more intimate than she would have expected, though she assumes that is regularly the case with the moonlit stallion. There is an intensity to him that could only ever feel passionate, intimate, and vulnerable. She thinks to herself that she could grant him a nickname in return if only Fire and Fear were not so perfect for him already.
If the fire-wielder is surprised at her confession, he does an impressive job of hiding it. He would not be the only one, though, if he were - her intentions surprise even herself. The thought of ruling has never called to her. It has not ever enticed her with the promise of a crown and throne. Diplomacy, all in all, is boring. Of course, her parents had always coaxed her and Link to follow whatever path they had wanted, though she knew Oceane held a certain amount of pride in navigating politics.
It’s not that deep for Lillibet.
Fyr questions her again, this time with a trio of inquiries that grow more and more philandering. A small bout of laughter falls from her lips as she shakes her head, causing her lilac-accented mane to dance across her neck. “Only the dangerous ones,” she responds coyly, ‘And I would only require a furnace in the winter months. You’d be free to roam the rest of the time.”
But why Pangea? She debates on this question, too, and takes a few moments to gaze at Fyr, her pupils narrowed as she searches his yellow eyes. Ultimately, she decides that there’s no true harm in sharing her thoughts with this random man she’d met in the middle of Beqanna’s witching hour. Not harmful enough to deter her, anyway.
“Poetic justice, I suppose. My mother and older brother were once held captive in Pangea.” A pause, and then: “And if they are still alive, I’d like a place they can come home to.”
Because their last one rests beneath the sea, golden leaves caught in the current.
