M-Marianne's... mom. Real.
Milf...
He's not sweating.
He's not sweating.
He opens his mouth.
But, oh Sweet Goddess -- that's Ingrid, coming in low and hard, tackling him into the pond!!!
astra does not laugh at, nor does she verbally acknowledge the spectacle playing out before her. ( living so long, she hardly registers humans attempting to flirt with her anymore. the wounds of losing adair still are fresh on her heart. ) she watches that poor human boy get tackled by a blonde head of hair into the fishing pond.
as she approaches these children, her sunset glare sets a quiet over the gathered crowd of rowdy children.
it’s not hard to see where marianne gets it from, but in the same breath . . . astra is the complete opposite of them. the slightly bored demeanor, the way she held her head high, the way she walked with a purpose.
“ you. child. ” she points a finger at the redhead in the pond, demanding attention in the way a well seasoned general commandeered a war-table. “ tell me. where is marianne, during this time of day ? and where does one find the newest professor ? i wish to speak with them. and speak quickly- my time is far too valuable to waste on such foolish displays of stupidity. ”
@spearofruin