While she liked to believe that she could read the Luperci body language better than most, she found her judgement of the man's opinion clouded as he smiled and gave a nod in response to the cluttered pages of her journal. Impressive, he claimed, but were they really? She'd met few within Inferni who possessed talent for visual art, really only able to list gentle-hearted Sage and the dark Cotl Ulrich, so perhaps they were impressive on that basis alone, but this man was not of Inferni. Surely, he'd seen artwork before, artwork of far better quality than her smudged sketches on poor-quality paper? The thought was lost as she caught sight of golden eyes once more, hidden behind the thin wall of rose-coloured glass that turned them vaguely orange.
She didn't stop him from taking the book, though she was staunchly attached to the material thing — once, Halo had thrown it away, and she'd spent sleepless hours in search for her precious item. Somehow, she felt this man wouldn't harm her writings or drawings at all. Still, red eyes focused on the fading Chaos star that coloured the cover. They didn't falter from their place even as she was lifted to her feet — the easiest she'd risen to her feet in nearly a week. Her pregnant frame stood shorter than his own, which (despite the fact that her own father was quite large) surprised the princess, as she so strongly believed him a coyote that she expected far less height. Silence overtook her, reaching down as far as the crimson irises that watched the odd man curiously while he spoke of beauty and flowers. Something in him reminded her of her odd cousin, whom she knew would never truly fit in as a piece of Inferni's puzzle; flowers and beauty and such strange turns of phrase caused subtle comfort to fall over the fragile-minded Infernian. She didn't believe it, of course. She was far too cynical a creature.
Talitha managed to prove, as the falu-masked man swung her in a sporadic dance, that not all women were creatures of grace. She tripped over not only her feet, but his as well, more than once; embarrassed by the show, black-rimmed ears fell backwards into the thick curls of auburn hair that tumbled down her back. "I've never seen a pretty weed, charming prince, so I think you're quite wrong in judgement." Her vanity was hidden for the time being, for she would have agreed at any other moment that the russet body she inhabited was somehow a beautiful thing, covered up by references to her internal workings. Though he might not have seen it as they danced amongst the dead foliage, his arms held a siren of the worst kind, who had caused strife amongst her own family for her own selfish reasons.
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