(no subject)

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

She was ready to go and seek humans. She was. She was ready to seek other humans.

Not quite this fast, not nearly this many. Golden eyes flinch from the light, pale limbs cringe from the noise, and only the questioning noise from the long-legged, long-furred hound combined with the sight of the land outside the door causes her to move.

She flees from the front door and out the back without ever testing the wall behind her, or managing to acknowledge anyone she may have run over in her wild flight.

Comments

[shall-go-free.livejournal.com]

Xas was not trampled in her run to escape, most likely as he was already outside, walking.

It will never be as fine a feeling as flight, but with the sharp chill in the air, if he closes his eyes and pretends, he can almost believe--

Almost.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

She hasn't seen a (man) male in...she doesn't know. Long arms, and long legs, and a long, lean dog all pull up short.

She's fairly certain that she can reach the woods before he can catch her.

[shall-go-free.livejournal.com]

It's entirely possible, though Xas, too, has had a great deal of practice in running in the last century.

Nonetheless, he stops as well, body gone almost statue-still.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

Wide, wide eyes hold a mixture of fear of the place, fear of the people, fear of her choices, and fear of her apparent loss thereof.

She hasn't spoken in a very, very long time. Her voice chooses not to work. She chooses not to try too hard.

[shall-go-free.livejournal.com]

"Are you cold? People often are at this time of year."

Xas, it must be said, is not wearing a coat.

In Milliways, he has learned to forget the masquerade of pure humanity.

[north-witch.livejournal.com]

Serafina isn't hit by the running girl, but she does notice her, and her brow furrows slightly.

A few moments later, she steps outside herself, untroubled by the cold despite her bare limbs, and looks around for the girl.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

The girl, and her companion, are high-tailing their way in the general direction of no people in a silence which is only one step away from being un- or super-natural.

[north-witch.livejournal.com]

Calling out might frighten her further. Chasing's probably pretty likely too, as well.

Serafina goes with calling, her voice loud enough to carry, but gentle.

"Child? I can see you are frightened, but I mean you no harm."

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

Her voice hasn't been used in (years) a long time. A very long time. She just stares with those wide, golden eyes, "I." She says, eventually.

[north-witch.livejournal.com]

Serafina has a bow and a quiver strapped to her back; moving slowly and deliberately, she unstraps them, holds them out, and lays them on the ground.

"My name is Serafina Pekkala," she says. "Have you been to this place before?"

[runmakitarun.livejournal.com]

People running are running from something in Makita's experience. Often the things being run from are dangerous. Which is why Makita's hand emerges from her coat with a pistol and she stares at where thie new woman came in.

When nothing follows, she heads out the back to see if the woman was injured by whatever she was running from. Her pistol is still gripped lightly in her hand.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

She does not look injured. She only looks...wild. Fey. Lost and afraid.

Moonwoman, she is afraid of other people.

[runmakitarun.livejournal.com]

Well, Makita is a person. She is a rather small girl though, and the oversized fur hat and the coat make her look even smaller. She's seen that look, the one of almost uncontrollable fear, in survivors of units almost wiped out in the war.

She just sits quietly in the snow, not making any attempt to approach. Simply watching. Once the woman has had some time to grow used to her presence Makita may try talking to her.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

Used to. She hasn't seen another person since (no) in a long time. Used to.

She was ready, she was. She was. Long limbs are barely covered, she is wearing nothing but a white deerskin tunic.

It isn't the cold that makes her tremble.

[runmakitarun.livejournal.com]

Makita continues to sit and watch. She's willing to do this all night if that's what it takes. Because in Makita's experience people who are that scared need human contact.

When the woman is ready, she'll tell Makita what she was running from. It just never occurs to her that the woman might be running from her.

[ninja-mountie.livejournal.com]

Outside, in the quiet and the cold, a very small man swathed from head to foot in white rabbit-fur clothing (parka and trousers, nothing fancy) is giving a tiny puppy its first introduction to the cold.

All right, its second, but nearly dying of exposure at birth isn't the same thing.

He looks up at the sound of footfalls, and reflexively goes very still.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

Her steps are nearly as quiet as the deer her dress once was. She stops, the long-legged hound with her stops, and both stare unerringly at the tiny man and the tiny puppy.

Ash is more concerned with the puppy than she is with the man. Deerskin's eyes are wide and fey.

[ninja-mountie.livejournal.com]

He says nothing. It's a rule of his- one broken often of late, but still- that he doesn't talk to a woman he doesn't already know, or that he hasn't been introduced to. It doesn't mean he can't be polite, though; he nods his head once.

One gloved hand reaches out to stroke the little puppy gently as it stumbles back to lean against his boot.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

She doesn't speak either. It has been (years) time since she last did. Ash is still looking at the puppy like it might do something strange and potentially violent.

She has never been a mother (either). I don't know that kind of dog.

[ninja-mountie.livejournal.com]

His silver eyes flick from the woman to the dog, which is another breed he's never seen before. Although it looks a little like some of the dogs he saw once in a book of his mama's, the kind Russian royalty would use to hunt deer, or wolves.

The puppy is half the age it will need to be before it can begin exploring the world. Its senses are awake, but only barely. It knows there are new smells, and moving things, and oh!

That smells like itself!

The little blue-grey ball of fuzz toddles forward an awkward step or two.

[silver_flecks]

"I KnOW yOu," she sings.

There's a redhead (she's not a redhead she doesn't have a head she's just a head) sitting on top of Bar and watching her with a

SmIlE

that wavers constantly.

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

(Yes) Yes "Yes." She says after a minute, and Ash cringes behind her person.

[silver_flecks]

It makes her

smirk

lAuGh

cry

and lean forward, a little, looking

directly

at the woman.

"Hi."

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

"Good morrow." Her voice is not well used, it is rusty with (years) time. "I know you."

[silver_flecks]

"No."

She grins.

"WeLl. YeAh."

Tiny fingers that aren't that are light that come from the fireplace and from inside Ash inside Deerskin reach out and pluck each thought that cuts (like a knife) from her head and sets it on the Bar.

Each one looks like a bottle of soda.

You don't want to look too closely at the flavour.

Or the description.

"I kNoW yOu."