the fauna trail

her nose twitched upon seeing the stranger, backing to hide within brush only to notice that they had already seen her, && it’d be useless. so she stood still like a deer, a hand gripping her sash as a caution gripped her. “you’re strange,” she spoke with a heavy ionian accent. “why you here?”

delicate fingers reached forward to ivory horns atop the woman’s head, a sense of wonder in the satyr’s eyes that she didn’t quite care that she was a stranger to these lands. “did not know there was others grow horns,” she spoke in broken common. “i-- sorry,” she pulled her hand back, not able to hide a smile upon pink lips. “i happy see one like me, that’s all.”

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an amazing piece commissioned from jiiri!

the satyr blinked at the other’s height, backing up a bit as ears fold back against her hair. her nose twitched, briefly forgetting what she had wanted to ask the barbarian about. “i--” she stuttered for a moment, gathering her thoughts once again. “your hair is such a bright color,” she spoke quietly. “i was wondering how you got it that way, i guess.”

“hmm,” she thinks, legs crossed && hands wrapped around her ankles, rocking back && forth. lips purse in thought before she smiles again, ears perking up even as tips flop over. “something heroic! i’m a sucker for those stories.”

“oh come on, you have to have some cool stories,” she pesters further, scooting closer to the white haired woman. “with how long you said you’ve wandered, there has to be a few tales of your encounters.”

she’s hiding behind a tree, staring at the woman with pink hair. it was such an oddity in humans, seeing neon colors where earthy hues once reigned, it always fascinated the satyr. carefully, she whispers to the woman. “hello?”

amelia pursed her lips, eyebrows knitted && ears folding back against her head. “common not first language,” she insisted, nostrils flaring in a bit of anger. she always had a short temper. “sorry not speak good enough for you.” she hardly wanted to introduce herself anymore, his rudeness sparking a bit of defiance in her. “amelia, this not your place. sacred ionian land, very old.”

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