A tune for the frost.

Pixie Frost · 11-20-2010, 11:31 PM

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Hardly. Smile Sorry for the lateness, and the suckish post.

Pixie’s bright purple eyes stared back into the open orange-yellow one. “It really depends on your point of view, doesn’t it?” she asked with a chuckle. More seriously, she added, “I’d consider myself a esteemed colleague. I’m friends with Skye Collins, if you know her.” She wasn’t sure if this coyote was even a wizard of Cercatori D’Arte; he could have stolen the instrument from the pack. But if he was a trespasser, it wasn’t any of Pixie’s business to chase him off.

The coyote sat up, and the blue-gray wolf got a better look at his miniature guitar. It was a beautiful instrument. But at his offer to make one for her, she shook her head. His larger-than-life smile didn’t seem particularly trustworthy when it came to trading offers. “Nah, I’ve already gotten one.” She turned the strap of her guitar around so her own instrument was in front of her and plucked a few chords. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guitar that small before,” she remarked. “Is there a name for it?”

She shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meetcha, Bangle. I’m from the pack south of here, Gryffindor. But I only joined a little more than a month ago. Up until then I was a traveler.” When Bangle complimented her steed, Pixie smiled proudly and turned around to look at the chestnut stallion. “You like him? His name’s Magic. I trained him myself.”

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