Post by striaga on Feb 8, 2018 14:12:35 GMT -6
L I E S E L
Liesel has announced her choice to nobody as of yet; it's caught between her teeth, a whispered breath to Alya one evening. It only feels right.
Liesel shrugs her clothing around her firmer and lets her wings twitch. Her wings. She met her parents, back at Torrine, and knows the truth of it--can't forget it, not the way that her father recoiled upon seeing her. The way her mother turned her face away. Liesel hisses breath between her teeth. Sandals grind the sand. Her head tilts back and she looks behind her to her companion--"It's not that bad," Liesel huffs, her hands wringing. "It's an eye." But that doesn't mean she's not looking at the patches available, the cloths, the swatches. Things that are practical. She wants something nice. Something that will look good, against her dark skin, her gold marks.
"Hey," Liesel huffed, her hands shoving into her pockets, her colorful wings flashing and rustling and fluttering in a slight fashion. "I'm not good with colors." Her head dips and Liesel huffs softly, swiping a hand across her forehead. "So, I mean. You could...help."
It's a quiet way of asking for Aisling to have an active role in the choosing of the eyepatch-cloth. Liesel thinks it's important, for a variety of reasons, which only she really knows.
Liesel shrugs her clothing around her firmer and lets her wings twitch. Her wings. She met her parents, back at Torrine, and knows the truth of it--can't forget it, not the way that her father recoiled upon seeing her. The way her mother turned her face away. Liesel hisses breath between her teeth. Sandals grind the sand. Her head tilts back and she looks behind her to her companion--"It's not that bad," Liesel huffs, her hands wringing. "It's an eye." But that doesn't mean she's not looking at the patches available, the cloths, the swatches. Things that are practical. She wants something nice. Something that will look good, against her dark skin, her gold marks.
"Hey," Liesel huffed, her hands shoving into her pockets, her colorful wings flashing and rustling and fluttering in a slight fashion. "I'm not good with colors." Her head dips and Liesel huffs softly, swiping a hand across her forehead. "So, I mean. You could...help."
It's a quiet way of asking for Aisling to have an active role in the choosing of the eyepatch-cloth. Liesel thinks it's important, for a variety of reasons, which only she really knows.
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