[Myrrh has lived in the mountains for much of her life... she knows snow, understands it. She can recognize the light hard flakes that will fall quickly and disappear just as swiftly, and the slow broad fall that will blanket the mountains, to melt so slowly that the rivers it feeds will never run dry. Year in and year out, there is snow, and she has never felt any more sentimental about it than she did the heat in the summer. Both meant that it was time to shelter in the caves with her father.
But now she is outdoors, looking up at the flakes as they twist and spiral. The humans of Ephraim and Eirika's army had such strong feelings about it. Maybe it was because they had less of it. The littler ones, the ones only a little more mature than Myrrh, laughed and capered in it. The older ones, closer and beyond the halfway point of their lives, grumbled and shuffled.
When she sees the red-haired man, she wonders which side of the line he falls on. She can't guess his age simply by looking. He's no child, but he doesn't appear old, either. His ears are a strange shape, but maybe he is just from a different land. Cautiously, she moves out from under the trees.]
Do you... think that this is beautiful?
[It's still hard to speak to humans she doesn't know. But she's had a lot of practice with Eprhaim and the others.]
no subject
[Myrrh has lived in the mountains for much of her life... she knows snow, understands it. She can recognize the light hard flakes that will fall quickly and disappear just as swiftly, and the slow broad fall that will blanket the mountains, to melt so slowly that the rivers it feeds will never run dry. Year in and year out, there is snow, and she has never felt any more sentimental about it than she did the heat in the summer. Both meant that it was time to shelter in the caves with her father.
But now she is outdoors, looking up at the flakes as they twist and spiral. The humans of Ephraim and Eirika's army had such strong feelings about it. Maybe it was because they had less of it. The littler ones, the ones only a little more mature than Myrrh, laughed and capered in it. The older ones, closer and beyond the halfway point of their lives, grumbled and shuffled.
When she sees the red-haired man, she wonders which side of the line he falls on. She can't guess his age simply by looking. He's no child, but he doesn't appear old, either. His ears are a strange shape, but maybe he is just from a different land. Cautiously, she moves out from under the trees.]
Do you... think that this is beautiful?
[It's still hard to speak to humans she doesn't know. But she's had a lot of practice with Eprhaim and the others.]