The soft floral scent of wildflowers greeted her as she approached the blooms, her paws carrying her through the soft grass. She moved slowly, ambling through the field, her eyes scanning the blooms and their radiant colors. She had no place to be- and no reason to rush, so why not enjoy the smells and sights around her? This land seemed to offer her a lot of those, and thus far- she had to admit to herself that she hadn't found a reason to leave. She was almost enjoying herself- despite the gnawing sort of guilt she felt about that sentiment. As she explored what this land had to offer- she'd been meeting others and learning various ways that they lived. So far it had been good enough.

Ghyslaine spotted a large butterfly, as it landed on a vibrant fuchsia flower. Its large wings were hues of blues and yellows, and with an excited twitch of her tail, she dropped down into a crouch. Her hips wiggled as she watched the butterfly, before she launched herself upwards and at the creature, lazily pawing at the air- not really wanting to swat it out of the sky as it flew upwards and away. She landed on the ground with a soft huff, and rolled over, staring upwards at the evening sky, with a content sigh. The sun was casting the clouds in bright purple and red hues, as it slowly sank into the horizon, and while she had allowed herself some cub folly- she really should think about where she intended to rest tonight.

Before that thought could linger in her mind very long, she scented someone else. She sat up, pushing herself into a more dignified position and glanced around- looking for the stranger. Hello?

when i speak

ART BY NAJEEBKHAN2009 VIA CC, CODE BY LARS

He is lured as he always was by the breath of a girl, slightly diverting from his mindless path in order to pursue her. Oversized paws trample plentiful grasses and dainty flowers, paying little mind to the thoughtless destruction as the burly man seeks her like a hound to blood. Only far less menacing and eerie, and perhaps more akin to a bull in a china shop - entirely lacking any calculation and instead hoping instinct would deliver him the endeavor. He might have run the wheaten woman over if she hadn't revealed herself and spoken when she did, causing the clay brute to eventually stop and ogle at her blankly. "Hello?" he returns the question, absently mimicking the tone of her voice.

@Ghyslaine

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Her nose hadn't failed her, though it had been almost misled by the flowery scents around her. Her eyes beheld a large male striding towards her, and so she sat up more proper, and less haphazardly. As he drew nearer, he spoke, and she found herself studying him for a moment in silence before introducing herself with a kind smile. "I am Ghyslaine, and you are?" She would ask, her eyes seeking to catch his own, as she studied him. He was a darker fellow than she- and larger of course- though in her mind she felt everyone was larger than she was.

"What brings you out among a field of flowers?" She posed him the simple question, curious as to what would bring a male out here, aside from curiosity. Maybe he just liked the flowers? "Any chance you know what any of these are called?" She followed up, and studied him instead, waiting for some type of response.

@Violarum

when i speak

ART BY NAJEEBKHAN2009 VIA CC, CODE BY LARS

She is small and pale amidst the flowers and beneath the light of day, her flesh marked with peculiar patterns unalike anything he’d seen before. The intricacies of her flesh and the femininity of her build perhaps in many ways his opposite. The woman is friendly it seems, which can never be assumed in the lands of Amaryllis, her voice soft and her smile warm.

Violarum maintains his typical stare of simplistic curiosity, his ears cupped forward amidst the dark tangles of his mane, “Violarum.” @Ghyslaine questions his motives, and quite simple the answer is - “You,” which from the lips of any other man might have seemed threatening, or menacing, but from Vio it is naught but blankly honest. He had smelt her during idle wandering and sought the company of a woman as he often did. Not always with ideal results.

Ghyslaine is eager to converse, his mind only partially tuned to her words as his scarlet gaze blatantly observes. “Flowers,” no shit sherlock! but quite frankly that’s all he had. “Is that… paint?” Changing the subject entirely, the clay beast strides a few steps nearer, eyeing off the tribal markings that adorned her limbs, never really having any mind for personal space.

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Compared to her, he's huge, she notes as she studies him. He doesn't seem threatening, or like she may have to defend herself, so she keeps herself calm and collected. He introduces himself as @Violarum , and she wonders to herself about his name for a second, before she speaks. "That's an interesting name. Does it mean something?"

She doesn't do anything but blink, when he replies to her question of what brings him out here. 'You.' She was unsure about the response, but chose to see it as curiosity, so she responded in a kind tone. "I'm not sure I'm entertaining enough to follow out here, but maybe your standards for entertainment are low." She punctuated these words with a kind, almost teasing smile.

She asked about the flowers, and he responded with 'Flowers', and she coughed out a lap. Stating the obvious are we? She mused quietly, before she spoke- he asked a question that she wasn't often asked- he asked about her odd markings. She looked down at her legs and then at her body with a grin.

"The golden marking here on my shoulder is a type of dye- an assisted type of marking we had in the pride from where I was birthed- I've had it since I was a cub. Everything else- I was born with, odd as it may seem." She replied, looking up at him patiently. "You.... You've got odd colored eyes? I don't think- I've ever seen red eyes. Do they run in your family?" She finished, asking a question of her own about his appearance.

when i speak

ART BY GONEAPEY VIA CC, CODE BY LARS

He shrugs lazily at her question of his name, in truth his birth mother had dumped him (or died) and his adoptive mother could only interpret his name as well as he could speak it at the time. For all Vio knew it had been warped by his youth, or never meant anything anyway. But for as little as that info was worth he figures it’s all summed up well enough with a shrug.

Admittedly, the man was easily entertained, but for the distraction of his mind upon her peculiar markings he doesn’t bother with addressing it verbally. @Ghyslaine talks plenty it seems, making mentions if dye but otherwise claiming the markings were natural. He rounds her side to peer at them thoughtfully. “My mother didn’t birth me,” he reveals in a round about way, somewhat vaguely suggesting he was adopted - Frei his surname, carried purely by the request of his adoptive mother but not a family he much related to.

All the same, he takes her notion of his eyes as something of a compliment - did it mean she was checking him out? He glances questionably at her for a fleeting breath of hopeful realisation, before again becoming encompassed by the peculiar mark that adorned her shoulder, being he could see it in its entirety now. “Why?” A question directed to the golden dye, as an oversized forepaw lifts and attempts to thud roughly against the dainty shoulder. Not intentionally to hurt her, purely out of an inability to be careful in anything he did.

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He shrugged in response to her question about his name, and she wondered to herself about it. Violarum... it was such an interesting name, and she wondered if her own seemed odd to ones who weren't born into the same life that she had come from. She remained seated where she was, as he rounded about her, his odd red eyes on her shoulder markings, as he speaks again. His mother didn't birth him? How could that be? She wondered, but before she had a chance to utter that thought, she was captivated by his attention on the odd markings.

She didn't believe him to intend to cause her harm, so when he lifted a paw to paw at her marking, she thought little of it, before she staggered slightly with the weight of his foot. 'Why?' He'd asked, and as she fought to right herself, cursing her small stature, she snorted softly. I don't know. They were just something my family did when I was young. I've had them as long as I can remember." Not exactly a truth, she did know why her parents had dyed the markings but she didn't really feel like talking about it.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's not polite to paw over strangers?" She asked teasingly, giving him a brief smile to make sure there wasn't any bite to her words. She wasn't bothered by it, per say, just a little confused. She wasn't used to anyone being so physically forward- but her markings were unusual.

Did you wonder if it would wipe off? Another teasing question. Though teasing, she hoped he only found her friendly, because that's all she aimed to be.

when i speak

ART BY GONEAPEY VIA CC, CODE BY LARS

It is yet another shrug at her mention of manners, barely sparing a thought to her playful sneer. His mother was not all that strict on him he supposed, he was in many ways her light - and as an only child for most of his upbringing, perhaps it allowed him to get away with too much.

"It's weird," he remarks conclusively before losing interest, striding off into a half circle to look at her more wholly again. His burly backside planted amidst the flowers with a theatrical huff - a second thought puffing out his chest so as not to look too relaxed. "What are you doing?" gardening?

@Ghyslaine

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Her interactions with others had been limited, but even compared to those- she found this male- @Violarum to be odd. Not necessarily in a bad way, but he was different. That difference within him made her curious about him, and as he shrugged about her comment on manners, she let out a huff of laughter. She watched he paced away from her and sat down with a huff. 'What are you doing?' He asked ultimately, and she was quiet for a moment, before looking herself, bringing her tail to wrap neatly around her paws, as she sat back more comfortably.

"Nothing really. I've no where to go and nothing to do until I'm hungry again- so I've been enjoying the flowers," She answered with a grin. She inhaled again, and eyed him curiously. "Were you born here?" She paused, before adding another question for him to consider.

"You have a home somewhere, I'd assume?" Genuine curiosity is what drove that question. She wondered if he was a part of some kind of pride here- and perhaps he was a lion from one that she hadn't met yet.

words

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Almost as if she clicked a realisation within the man upon her statement of having nowhere to be, Violarum perked noticeably in her direction. He was a pride lion now - as much as that fact hurt a little - and Ghyslaine was a lonely lioness. Almost like a child he stands again, eagerly, ears perked amidst tangled hair as scarlet lanterns fixate upon her.

"You can come with me," he states it as if there is no possibility to rejection, but a moments thought ushers him to be more definitive, "Yes, you come with me to my home." The clay man ushers forth then, attempting to return to her proximity, trying to thud his forehead solidly against her shoulder.

"@Ghyslaine of Ecrosia Mire."

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