A shadow falls over her, or really just a darker piece of shade. She’s not oblivious, and though she doesn’t look up right away there’s a clear tensing of her muscles that Deimos would notice (though most others would not). It’s an immediate response, something both prey and predator in it. She would fight long enough to flee, because sometimes it wasn’t about winning but rather simply living to fight another day. She wasn’t the towering hulk of a man before her, and she knew that winning wasn’t always in her cards, but she sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight.
She looks up as he speaks, and she grins at him in her playful way. “I thought I might as well live up to my name, and if I am going to make this stupid basket I am going to use it at least once.” Real truth? She is joining because it’s the smart thing to do. Smart though foolish, given his tales of a less than stellar previous festival. Her plan is to run if things go south, assuming she can help it, but really there is information to be found in festivals. Life happens around moments like those, and she knows to miss it is to miss out in general.
She puts the basket (well, the beginnings of a basket) down for a minute, resting her hands on the ground beside her and leaning against the building to look up at the tall warrior. “No chance you know how to weave a better basket, do you?” she asks with a chuckle, not particularly expecting him to be any better at this than she is but then again, stranger things have happened.
She looks up as he speaks, and she grins at him in her playful way. “I thought I might as well live up to my name, and if I am going to make this stupid basket I am going to use it at least once.” Real truth? She is joining because it’s the smart thing to do. Smart though foolish, given his tales of a less than stellar previous festival. Her plan is to run if things go south, assuming she can help it, but really there is information to be found in festivals. Life happens around moments like those, and she knows to miss it is to miss out in general.
She puts the basket (well, the beginnings of a basket) down for a minute, resting her hands on the ground beside her and leaning against the building to look up at the tall warrior. “No chance you know how to weave a better basket, do you?” she asks with a chuckle, not particularly expecting him to be any better at this than she is but then again, stranger things have happened.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
