Snippet #1396287

Dubhradh noses Blysse's hand for the carrot, but ceases as she speak again. The sound of the two names echoes in his mind for a short time before he paws the ground and returns to the carrot. He accepts it gratefully, nudging the elf maiden's hand if he ever deemed the slow feeding too slow and making soft sounds of appreciation whenever a new piece is delivered to him. This treat was unlike any other he had experienced, though the Chasind were farmers, they could be crude; the vegetables they grew not experiencing the same tenderness that the elves provided to their own. Enraptured in his own bliss, the normally territorial stallion fails to notice Dareth as the halla enjoys an apple from Dubhradh's lady.

As Blysse speaks, Zephora listens, though her hand remains outstretched to the curious halla. When the stag responds to the calling of 'Dareth', Zephora makes a mental note of it. She stumbles over the sounds before she fits the whimsical language into her native tongue; the 'r' is heavily rolled and the 'eth' is strong and final. She speaks the stags name fondly as he began to approach her once more, recovering his attention from Blysse. Zephora's attention is then returned to Blysse as she indicates herself and gives Zephora her name. Zephora mulls the sounds over in her head, the sound emerging from her lips again a thick distortion of the whimsical tone of the elf. "Blys...Blysse. Blysse." She nods to the woman before putting her own hand to leather clad chest. "Zephora."

After the apple has been sufficiently devoured or spilled to the ground, Zephora runs her hand over her thigh to remove the remaining juices of the fruit. She addresses Dareth with a smile and a nod before turning to her own steed. Blysse had been upon her, however, and Zephora chuckles, a broad smile on her features as the elf hugs her. Thoroughly prepared, Zephora returns the hug. When Blysse indicates the town of Lothering, Zephora tilts her head to the side in thought. Only having lived in the Wilds, the idea of a town makes her nervous, but the idea of traveling with another is appealing. She speaks Dubhradh's name and clicks her tongue, the steed approaches as Zephora extends her hand to Dubhradh's jaw, "An téid sinn a-mach?" A reply is given as Dubhradh paws impatiently at the ground and tosses his mane with a shake of his head. Zephora laughs openly once more, and nods at Blysse, "Tòisichidh sinn."