You can Count on Me?

The damsel accepted the autumn furred man's apology without a thought, smiling as he chuckled. His question nagged at her infinite mind, rifling through it in search of the answer to complete it. The snowy derma of the lean woman shifted as she heaved a sigh, not quite knowing the answer, but she made an attempt to explain. I guess I was simply exploring, and I have never swam the oceans before, so I decided to do that while also exploring these islands. She told him, her soft, silky voice lilting and wavering musically. A faint Russian accent coated the ivory dame's speech, and was coupled beautifully with her otherworldly tone of voice. A shrug accompanied her voice, for the answer was nothing specific, and was rather boring.

Once again his deep, masculine voice begged a question, one the porcelain lady was not too keen on answering. The man seemed friendly enough, but the truth was just too horrifying, too personal. So she backed out of that response, choosing to go a different way. It was... 'Twas just a dream, my dear Siarvon, nothing more... She told him, stumbling a bit on the beginning of the answer, as she wanted desperately to tell someone the truth, to be able to share her terrible past with someone, but couldn't. She also was reassuring herself of the fact as she told him, her voice firm under the cover of it's sweet, soft delivery. In those moonstone orbs, however, lay the truth, the fear still residing within her, the lonliness she could not escape, and the sorrow of having no blood like hers. The grief threatened to overwhelm her, and she wanted so badly for another to talk to, to comfort her. A single tear developed in her silver pool, and dripped down her cheek like a shard of ice sliding over the snows that had so recently begun to leave.