( ...it kept its gaze steady on the hippogryph as she drew closer, cocked her head, and began to tentatively beak at the rising stream of smoke. )
It didn't move, didn't speak, not until the hippogryph had drawn back to peer at the knight with critical amber eyes. It leaned back, then, to take pipe in hand once more and look sidelong at the Sentinel, Scourge-blue eyes narrowed. "She has a name," came that dead voice, soft and low. "It's Bonnie."
( It took a moment for Atalania to recover her wits... )
[the remainder to be posted later!]
"Catch anything good?"
I look over my shoulder only briefly at the man who's dropped to a crouch beside me; he's smiling hesitantly, shoulders hunched. It's a smile full of inarticulate masculinity, a fear-grimace he wears when he realizes he can't dance around whatever embarrassingly emotional topic is about to come up. The smile is worse, in a lot of ways, than any of his snarls or grimaces. I look back at the sea.
( The pause is awkward and long and noisy, the sighs of the waves competing with the pounding of the blood in my ears. )