holiday from real
ronan
11-01-2024, 03:09 PM
Makara was always the sort that welcomed company. It usually meant an audience, willing or unwilling, for her torrential thoughts. Now, though, they had slowed to a trundle, two ideas worrying at her: go or stay. Go meant going home, back to the Armada, and facing whatever waited for her. Stay meant... what, exactly? It was the promise of knowledge, and that used to excite her more than anything else...
When she heard the somewhat familiar voice cresting up the ridge behind her, she didn't flinch. Makara turned slowly, flipped her goggles up off of her eyes, and gave him an appraising glance - slower and more muted now than she'd been down among the spires, her normally grating personality tempered some by the gravity of the situation. She noticed the tension he carried high in his shoulders and imagined the tight ropes of muscle coiled there, held so long in that position it would likely feel uncomfortable to relax.
"You sound so sure that I have family," she mused aloud. Did she? She wasn't sure what waited in the north or if she would be welcomed. "And by that measure, I could ask you the same, but I won't - I don't think you'd tell me about them if you had them, or you'd talk around it but not quite answer the question," Makara continued, the red sun beginning to set fully and turning the sands almost purple in its half-light. "Sorry, that might be rude, I spent quite a long time underground and I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners, though I'm not sure I ever really had them to begin with. Once those quakes started, I wasn't keen on ending up back there again, so I headed for higher ground. You do seem like you know more than you let on down there. Ronan, was it?" She angled her head down at the Prominence, turned inky and obfuscated in the dark evening sky, but those spires still stretched upwards towards the barely visible stars. Sharp like blades. "Please, tell me. I love a good story."
"speech"
When she heard the somewhat familiar voice cresting up the ridge behind her, she didn't flinch. Makara turned slowly, flipped her goggles up off of her eyes, and gave him an appraising glance - slower and more muted now than she'd been down among the spires, her normally grating personality tempered some by the gravity of the situation. She noticed the tension he carried high in his shoulders and imagined the tight ropes of muscle coiled there, held so long in that position it would likely feel uncomfortable to relax.
"You sound so sure that I have family," she mused aloud. Did she? She wasn't sure what waited in the north or if she would be welcomed. "And by that measure, I could ask you the same, but I won't - I don't think you'd tell me about them if you had them, or you'd talk around it but not quite answer the question," Makara continued, the red sun beginning to set fully and turning the sands almost purple in its half-light. "Sorry, that might be rude, I spent quite a long time underground and I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners, though I'm not sure I ever really had them to begin with. Once those quakes started, I wasn't keen on ending up back there again, so I headed for higher ground. You do seem like you know more than you let on down there. Ronan, was it?" She angled her head down at the Prominence, turned inky and obfuscated in the dark evening sky, but those spires still stretched upwards towards the barely visible stars. Sharp like blades. "Please, tell me. I love a good story."
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Current time: 11-21-2024, 08:23 AM
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