Meadow

The grasses brushed her belly, shifting as the wind blew them gently, she twitched. Her tail flicked against her side and she kicked at the imaginary bug on her belly that the grass had imitated. She snorted, shaking her head as she moved a little, the grasses were a tad bit shorter here so they didn't touch her. While yes it was spring, it hadn't warmed up as much as it did back where she'd been living before. She was not used to such chilly weather, lets be frank. She felt like a baby at times. She knew that her bloodlines should be accustomed to the colder weather, built for it. But her fathers line had introduced something into the line that made her less…drafty. She hated the cold.

What she was trying to find in these islands she didn't know. She wasn't sure what brought her here other than she had no herd to turn to, no one left in her world. So she came to where her family spoke of. But for what purpose she was clueless. She knew in her heart she wasn't one to draw attention to herself. She'd rather everyone not notice her, if she was completely honest. That didn't mean she didn't appreciate a conversation here and there, but she was not the warmest of girls. She was not one who would openly strike up a conversation without a need behind it. And honestly, being outspoken and brash meant when she did speak, she came across as well, mean.

Aelia sighs, wondering what she was going to do now. Her ears flicked, a sound catching ever so slightly, her blue eyes catching the sight of a onyx form coming her way. He was dark as night, you know the nights I'm talking about, the ones where the moon is tucked away and there is a heavy layer of clouds covering the stars so everything is blacked out. No light means no reflections. She tips her head to the side as he stops. His nicker reaches her before his words, and she contemplates answering.

She knows she should be polite, because lets face it, that's what society dictates. “Space is plentiful.” The words slip past, soft with a gravel that shows her infrequent use of her voice. It causes an uneasy feeling in her throat, one that if she could, clearing her throat would be something she should have done. I might question what caused you to think I was the best choice of company, but do your worst. The thought rattled through her mind and she had to force herself not to laugh aloud at her own musings. She would do her best to not show that she wasn't a great conversationalist. She knew she needed to work on it. Why? What dictates how I speak to others? I see no need to be polite. Greaaaat. Now she's talking to herself. Her blue eyes watch him, ignoring her own thoughts, for the time being at least.





Speech && thoughts