Meadow

”They call these lands the Lost Isles.”

She whips her head to the sound of the stranger’s voice, a surprise, though not an unwelcome interruption. She’d been so caught up in her own appreciative thoughts that she’d not heard him approach, though he didn’t seem like he meant any harm. She gives him a languid smile, eyes closing briefly against the sun before opening and returning to drink him in. ”Very fitting, I must say - I’m quite soundly lost myself,” she quips cheerfully, clearly not disappointed in the events leading up to this moment despite the little nuisance of having nearly drowned from exhaustion prior to washing up on these shores.

After all, she’s alive, right? The whole near-drowning is a minor inconvenience in retrospect.

Her visitor speaks again and she chuckles, moving closer to him with a taste of wickedness in two-toned eyes, blue and brown appraising him like a prime rib at the butcher. ”Is that an invitation, then? True enough, I’ve had my fair share of flavors,” she muses, feigning indifference as her gaze shifts to the view of rolling fields and endless dandelions, sweet and ready to be plucked. ”Seems like it’s just you and me here, though, and I am a creature who prefers good company. Would you consider yourself good company, darling?”

She’s never been the sort for shyness - or caution - and she isn’t about to start with it now. Instead, she allows her gaze to crawl over him brazenly, an appreciative smile tugging at her maw. He is painted like her, and she can’t help but admire that. She’s always been fond of her coloring, especially on others where it is more readily appreciated.

When he speaks again, she smirks, tilting her head just slightly, tendrils of her white-and-blonde mane falling across her shoulder and neck. ”Astute observation, my good sir. I am Seline, I washed up back that way,” she tosses her head towards the south end of the island and the sea that spat her out. ”And what should I call you? I should at least know your name before I go home with you, I suppose,” she chirps, giving him a mischievous wink.

Her brother would scold her for her wanton behavior, or so he would call it - though she’d heartily disagree that there was anything wrong with flirtations. But he’d also been the one to dare her into the ocean, so did she really give a care what he thought?

Had she ever?