Ariala had never seen a tar pit before -- or a swamp like the Feverlands, for that matter. She hung in the sky overhead, watching the thick liquid bubble with some fascination. Why did it do that? Was it hot, like the springs was more familiar with? What would it feel like if she touched it? Unfamiliar with such things, she had no clue what a bad idea that would be. Still, she wasn't about to try it -- until she saw a human form standing at the tar pits' edge. Arialla watched the woman's ritual from the sky, not wishing to interrupt her, but when she seemed finished, the bone dumped back into the pit, Arialla decided that a conversation might not go amiss. Maybe she could find out more about this place. So she landed behind Mildew, taking on her human form.
"Hello," she called: she'd landed a good 15 feet away, not wishing to startle the stranger or get into her personal space. "Do you have time to talk?"
"Hello," she called: she'd landed a good 15 feet away, not wishing to startle the stranger or get into her personal space. "Do you have time to talk?"
Arialla
Freedom. Flight. Grace. Keen-sight.
"Golden Eagle - Mongolia" by carfull...from Wyoming is licensed with CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
