heartline

Soft breaths passed through her nostrils, as she leaned against the rough trunk of the grand oak. It wasn't the biggest one in the grove, but she was inclined to believe that it was her favourite one so far. Dark lashes fanned out across her cheeks, muzzle tucked toward her chest. Each breath would stir the brilliant cerulean feathers entwined with the fur of her breast. It was a strange way to rest, but she wasn't quite in the mood for a nap; just a quick rest of her weary legs. After leaving the west, she'd decided to venture south. She wanted to see the warm ocean there, but ended up finding something completely different. The land bridge had been far too tempting to pass up. Now, she was ensconced in the tranquil forest of oaks. Dim birdsong was audible overhead, rising and falling in pitch like a siren's call. It reminded her of the forest she'd found after leaving here, full of budding birch trees.

A raucous avian overhead disturbed the comfortable ambiance, and the alabaster wolfess glanced upward in time to watch it go shooting by overhead. Audits would fold toward her skull in disbelief at the cacophony. A small frown would paint itself upon her features, but nothing more. Slender limbs would straighten slowly, relishing in the languid stretch of musculature despite her rude awakening. Shoulder would brush against the rugged bark once more, before a long breath would shudder through her lungs. Coal paws would glide over the verdant terra, deciding now would be as a good time as any to explore this place further. The noisy bird appeared again, gliding a few feet over her head. Mercury gaze would lift toward its smooth form, taking a moment to appreciate the smooth way it moved through the air. Birds were quite beautiful creatures, and she envied them somewhat. Being able to fly would be a spectacular thing indeed. Neutral expression would be tinged with content, hardened features softening with the barest hint of a smile.

It wasn't until another came into her view that the pallid dancer paused. He was a little smaller than herself, but it was her understanding that most were. His ebony pelt hinted at cobalt undertones, in the dappled light of the grove in midmorning. She regarded him curiously, though not a word escaped her. Ivory audits would twitch toward the male, moonstone orbs fixed upon his features. He was relatively handsome. "Good morning." Gentle lyrics would offer in greeting, thick with the burr of a Russian accent. A facade of cold neutrality was worn by the towering femme, waiting for some sort of response.