knew what she was doing when she invited the wild in
Quietly grumbling or laughing amongst themselves, depending on the individual, Melita occupied herself with an outlandish round of amusement. Once she’d settled on the overly, large, and exaggerated nose, she moved onto the hair, striving to make it look somewhat realistic to the actual figure. The eyes were fine, but eyebrows given into a furrowed look, embellished in a flurry and fury of mischief. More than once she ceased to simply look at the rendering again and giggle, placing her charcoal down to survey it in its entirety. It would need a few finishing touches…maybe some color…
But her attention deviated from her follies when another approached; a very tentative stance and movement, despite being far taller than she. The impishness and devilry faded, piecing away portions of the wild merriment. She had very brief memories of the individual before her, and certainly no name, no other action or recollection she could ponder or commit to. The uncertainty in this land though drew her to silence, to wondering if she required the weapons at her back, along her belt, or if, measured by the weight in his stare towards the paper and pencils, there would be other notions and predilections to consider. Her eyes narrowed speculatively regardless, not threatening, not snarky, not menacing, but enough of a stance and familiarity in the comfort of potential vigilance and violence. “Hello.” She paused in the interim, and Fangorn’s eerie gaze riveted to the stranger too – much more guarded and suspicious. Her voice followed suit, steel and fire, mettle and grit. “Anything I could help you with?”
But her attention deviated from her follies when another approached; a very tentative stance and movement, despite being far taller than she. The impishness and devilry faded, piecing away portions of the wild merriment. She had very brief memories of the individual before her, and certainly no name, no other action or recollection she could ponder or commit to. The uncertainty in this land though drew her to silence, to wondering if she required the weapons at her back, along her belt, or if, measured by the weight in his stare towards the paper and pencils, there would be other notions and predilections to consider. Her eyes narrowed speculatively regardless, not threatening, not snarky, not menacing, but enough of a stance and familiarity in the comfort of potential vigilance and violence. “Hello.” She paused in the interim, and Fangorn’s eerie gaze riveted to the stranger too – much more guarded and suspicious. Her voice followed suit, steel and fire, mettle and grit. “Anything I could help you with?”
Melita
