Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone
"If you don't get muddy in the Feverlands, have you ever really been there?" The rhetorical question carried a note of amusement, issued from pale lips beneath a shock of pale hair that partly obscured the woman's eyes as she bent down to pick up the crumbling dirt. It had hit her legs as she approached, leaving a stain of clay and dust on an already travel-stained coat far too warm for the season. Dropping the dirt off into the flowerbed, shockingly white fingers dusted off the dirt and disappeared into deep pockets, probably large enough to fit a small puppy if she really tried.
"Is that your dragon? Can I pet it?" She didn't try to approach, wary of antagonizing the sturdy little predator, but a longing stare towards the pale creature beneath the bench betrayed her desire to. Perhaps because Maea had always loved dragons, or perhaps because it was much like herself in color - either way, it had been enough to lure her into conversation with this stranger, despite an acquired distrust that made it hard to look at him directly.
"Is that your dragon? Can I pet it?" She didn't try to approach, wary of antagonizing the sturdy little predator, but a longing stare towards the pale creature beneath the bench betrayed her desire to. Perhaps because Maea had always loved dragons, or perhaps because it was much like herself in color - either way, it had been enough to lure her into conversation with this stranger, despite an acquired distrust that made it hard to look at him directly.
