Remix to Ignition
02-26-2017, 03:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-16-2017, 06:22 PM by Ardora.)
He did not seem to lapse again in his formality past the one instance, and Ardora eyed him with respect. So, on top of being one of Uldormun's children, he was also intelligent and respectful. Okay, she liked that. It was clear that her god knew exactly who to bless, and knew exactly what he was doing. "The pleasure is mine," she responded in kind, smiling softly. The smile widened softly at his words, completely oblivious to the fact that it was... flirting. "I do not think one could be more blessed than the other in a situation such as this." Her voice was quietly chastising, and gently correcting, though not angry in the least; she just didn't see how it was possible to believe such a thing. As he glanced past her, she also twisted her head to look behind her, and the soft smile returned as she took in the sight of the golds, reds, yellows and browns. The colors of fire, so vivacious and beautiful. The colors of life, too. "It is rather fitting, isn't it?" she mused quietly. She glanced back at him with his next statement, and she shook her head. "I wouldn't say so much an end as it is a... rest. They always come back, after all, after the cold months have passed." This time she wasn't trying to correct him, just wanting to give him a different perspective. Many believed that the winter caused death - which it did, but life always returned. The trees, the animals; they simply escaped the cold, most of the time, and came back again when it was warm. They took... sanctuary, in Ardora's eyes. Sanctuary from the cold. Her attention drifted again, and she glanced back at the wonderful colors before it was, once again, pulled back to Ankaios. "My homeland?" she echoed, sorrow flashing in her eyes. His words, though, again, made her pause, and the sorrow in her eyes sharpened to something more. "You keep saying that. Are there more of us? With fire in our fur, blessed by the gods?" She needed to know - that came priority over telling of her home and the wreckage of it. |
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