[ The friendship that has budded between the two of them, like a flower that needs special care and attention for it to grow and flourish, to be nurtured or it would wilt and die far too quickly. Lauralae's concern with it would not be so important to her were it not for the strange kindness this woman had showed her, the way that it lights her insides and confuses her -- the last person that had been so kind and tender to her had died from her own mistakes, had died because she had felt foolish enough to love, and she is uneasy as she watches the lady approach.
A beast of magic, she notes, and she's curious about it for all that she pretends to ignore it. It's far too easy to walk forward and greet Elizabeth, to nod her head and watch her with a calm concern that might not be present with anyone else. Iorveth has seen it, of course, her constant companion in the months that have gone bye, the man who now carries her shard of blood granite for her (trust, she thinks, comes in strange forms in this world) but it is foreign to human eyes.
She says nothing, at first, simply follows the other woman into the depths of the trees, relaxing as the darkness and the forestry cocoons around her like a blanket of protection. In the trees she is a predator, her pace slow and steady as she steps through, head held high. She has lived in forests such as these, hunted for her own food and survived from it and nothing else; she is more at home here than she has been in her house. ]
I would not be standing so idly if it were not safe, lady.
[ It's almost derisive, really, and she halts her words before more comes out. Instead, she walks forward, a few paces faster to catch up, and squeezes her hands tight. Calm is important, especially when this woman is trying to be so kind (but for what reason? Why? Other than her magic, what does she have to offer?) ]
no subject
A beast of magic, she notes, and she's curious about it for all that she pretends to ignore it. It's far too easy to walk forward and greet Elizabeth, to nod her head and watch her with a calm concern that might not be present with anyone else. Iorveth has seen it, of course, her constant companion in the months that have gone bye, the man who now carries her shard of blood granite for her (trust, she thinks, comes in strange forms in this world) but it is foreign to human eyes.
She says nothing, at first, simply follows the other woman into the depths of the trees, relaxing as the darkness and the forestry cocoons around her like a blanket of protection. In the trees she is a predator, her pace slow and steady as she steps through, head held high. She has lived in forests such as these, hunted for her own food and survived from it and nothing else; she is more at home here than she has been in her house. ]
I would not be standing so idly if it were not safe, lady.
[ It's almost derisive, really, and she halts her words before more comes out. Instead, she walks forward, a few paces faster to catch up, and squeezes her hands tight. Calm is important, especially when this woman is trying to be so kind (but for what reason? Why? Other than her magic, what does she have to offer?) ]
We should find a quiet space.