the voice is lilting and soft, and yet she cannot help a flinch. there's an owlish blink at this reed-like man just on the other side of the broad tree, hair bright in the sun, shadows cast from the leaves above them shivering in the passing breeze. it isn't a familiar face and everything around them is painted in brilliant color, vibrant and green and blue, stark contrast to the writhing red of the upside down. it was almost enough to forget.
max casts her eyes downward, with another jar plinking at the motion and it was a wonder she hadn't cracked one underfoot. ) Oh — ugh yeah. ( her throat is dry. ) Sorry.
( distant, barely polite, but it's somehow easier to chase the distraction. after a short, awkward pause: ) ... What are they for?
no subject
speak of the devil...the voice is lilting and soft, and yet she cannot help a flinch. there's an owlish blink at this reed-like man just on the other side of the broad tree, hair bright in the sun, shadows cast from the leaves above them shivering in the passing breeze. it isn't a familiar face and everything around them is painted in brilliant color, vibrant and green and blue, stark contrast to the writhing red of the upside down. it was almost enough to forget.
max casts her eyes downward, with another jar plinking at the motion and it was a wonder she hadn't cracked one underfoot. ) Oh — ugh yeah. ( her throat is dry. ) Sorry.
( distant, barely polite, but it's somehow easier to chase the distraction. after a short, awkward pause: ) ... What are they for?