- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
- Writing Levels
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
As Thalion returned from his hunt, sinking down across from her to prepare the two Oilers, Minette looked up with casual acknowledgement, but as her gaze moved from hunter to hunted, a brow quirked and straightening up, she stared for a moment in silence. When she spoke, her voice was small, and carried with it a weight that could only be described as reverence, "You... you shot them both."
Thalion didn't waste. She knew this about him more than she knew anything. He abhorred the idea of it, in fact, because in Evernight, you never knew when you were going to need something, and need it most desperately. Yet there was no denying the marking on the flesh of the bird-like creature... it had been pierced by an arrow, as had it's mate. He hadn't allowed it to kill itself, but had shown it mercy, and the idea of that... fathoming it was awe inspiring. He was not a romantic person... not by any definition of the word, and she had never minded, because it was enough that she knew he cared for her. He had told her he loved her, shortly before Gregian had sought to end him, and she hadn't questioned it... didn't question it now.
But this seemed such a gesture, and it was impossible not to see affection behind it, even if it was more crude than eloquent poetry or flourishing words. Somehow, it meant so much more than those things might have. For him to try... for him to want to try. It almost made it equally as impossible to hold in her own emotional reply.
Tears pricked at her eyes and looking down at the small pile of sticks she had been splitting apart to add to the fire, she nodded, using the back of her hand to dry her cheeks. Absently, she pulled a few sticks free, setting them aside, "These should work for a spit. Here... give me one of those. You don't need to clean them both."
Thalion didn't waste. She knew this about him more than she knew anything. He abhorred the idea of it, in fact, because in Evernight, you never knew when you were going to need something, and need it most desperately. Yet there was no denying the marking on the flesh of the bird-like creature... it had been pierced by an arrow, as had it's mate. He hadn't allowed it to kill itself, but had shown it mercy, and the idea of that... fathoming it was awe inspiring. He was not a romantic person... not by any definition of the word, and she had never minded, because it was enough that she knew he cared for her. He had told her he loved her, shortly before Gregian had sought to end him, and she hadn't questioned it... didn't question it now.
But this seemed such a gesture, and it was impossible not to see affection behind it, even if it was more crude than eloquent poetry or flourishing words. Somehow, it meant so much more than those things might have. For him to try... for him to want to try. It almost made it equally as impossible to hold in her own emotional reply.
Tears pricked at her eyes and looking down at the small pile of sticks she had been splitting apart to add to the fire, she nodded, using the back of her hand to dry her cheeks. Absently, she pulled a few sticks free, setting them aside, "These should work for a spit. Here... give me one of those. You don't need to clean them both."