it's an exploration, she's made of outer space
To her one step forward, the male took one step back. This was a strange phantom, and she still didn't know what to think of him, other than that he was an odd sort. Compared to her and those she'd known, of course. He was more cautious, and yet his questions were far more blunt and simple. There were no pleasantries from this male, and she wasn't sure what to think of it. Did the warmonger wolves even bother with such niceties? Or did they greet each other with bloodshed and rending of flesh? Slowly, the gears in the male's head could be seen turning around and around. What was he thinking? It slightly worried the dove, wondering whether or not she was about to be eaten by the strange man. Eventually, a response fell from his maw. He was taught the tongue? By a woman named Omi. She felt like she knew this name from somewhere, but couldn't come to think of where she might have heard it. Had there been an Omi in her tribe? She nodded, humming in acknowledgement. That was interesting, but obviously she still couldn't trust this stranger. She took a step back, turning her head so her gaze could rest upon the stars above. She wanted to sit back and go back to stargazing, she was so tired of talking to the odd phantom. She just wanted to lay back and enjoy the cosmos over her head. |
Dada Shawnee
Mo ti ṣe kan ìfípáda