!!
(Messy re: Marint)
Send ‘!!’ and I’ll write a para description of your muse from mine’s perspective, including:
Their looks, their personality, and who they are to my muse, + Etc!
___ Mesandrèaux and Marint @arealnowhereelf She picked up the small wooden owl carving and stared down at it, recalling the crafter. She imagined what it must be like, to be an artist and create things, to have a vision and plan for materials. Mesandrèaux returned the carving to its home on her bookcase and sat at her desk. Her room was small but so familiar when the rest of life was feeling large and heavy again. Even so, she was restless and walked up the long way toward the small courtyard of the temple, avoiding her family that were working in various spaces. She sat on the bench and looked at the small fountain, the woman lifting her arms in reverence toward the sky. Reverence. Her hands folded in her lap and she kept her expression soft, though she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She wondered how embarrassing sitting for him was going to be. She didn't like to be the center of attention, and to think he was going to draw her face for hours... Her mind wandered and she wondered if only having the one eye hindered his art at all. She wondered how he got started sculpting and carving. ... She wondered how he had gotten into his current work that gave him coin, since he did not charge for his art. She rolled her lips and wondered if she could trust that he wasn't in too deeply, too close to dangerous information and people. She trusted his answer to be as honest, but she wasn't sure about how close you could get to that sort of work and not be stuck in it--even if you wanted to believe you were careful. It seemed such a slippery slope. But he was smart. And he was cautious. He had to be, to take care with his son. He was older than she was, by a good margin, she assumed. She supposed he had been doing it long enough that it was none of her concern how close to dangerous people and jobs he might be. But it was natural to worry after a friend, wasn't it? Were they friends? She hoped so. She thought so. Budding and awkward as she made it, he always smiled and seemed charmed--though she didn't set out with the intent to charm! He had an expressive face and such an amiable attitude, what he must think of her! Reverence. She blew out a sigh and rose, leaving the temple to wander the Suramar streets.
