'Barely seventy' and still a baby? Jigano was glad his dragon face was less expressive than his human one so he could keep a politely curious expression on it as he watched Tarasha's fingers weave with such expert motions, instead of laughing at how easily they glossed over a human lifetime. He was glad of the Fae perspective on time, though; it was a reminder that all the trauma and sadness of the past year and a half was little more than a drop in the bucket in the greater flow of time, and even his own life. It helped to smooth some of the rough edges off his mourning and soothe his heart, as much as the warmth of the day and the good company he had found to spend it with.
The Fae had their families too, of parents and children, outings and holidays, joy and love. The dragon thrummed approvingly at the recounting, something like a hum - but deeper, as much rumble as musical note - of curiosity emerging at the lingering gold in the water. Inching closer (an inelegant but effective way to move without being threatening) he stretched out his neck so he could gently nose the basket Tarasha had set aside, clearly admiring it.
The Fae had their families too, of parents and children, outings and holidays, joy and love. The dragon thrummed approvingly at the recounting, something like a hum - but deeper, as much rumble as musical note - of curiosity emerging at the lingering gold in the water. Inching closer (an inelegant but effective way to move without being threatening) he stretched out his neck so he could gently nose the basket Tarasha had set aside, clearly admiring it.
