She had caught his curious eye as well but had not acted upon it; the familiar figure seemed deep in her work and he'd not interrupt such a thing whether out of consideration or potential usefulness was for later revealing.
Yet it was a detailed sharpness and curiosity that marked them all as who they were. He could not speak of her explicit kind just yet but Malekith found it hard to imagine any that came after them would be all too different. This world, another, another universe entirely. And it had made him wonder, but those wonderings were not yet fully developed.
His chin tips, light catching on the sharp of his masked cheek as she approaches with an elegance and grace he once knew. So small, was she young or their kind normally as this? Curious markings over skin that belongs to the night. For a moment, and only a moment, it brought an ache. Some familiar but old pain. It takes one purposed step to have him face her. The bow observed, and in such a way with such a manner he holds himself it may soon reveal itself to Lioriley that this particular elf comes from Nobility.
"Then allow me to satiate it," her question well met with a voice that sounded as if darkness itself was speaking. Gloved fingers pull the booklet over toward her, "This is Shiväisith, its written system is known as Todjydheenil." Observing reactions, a hand unfolding as if to permit her study of it. "I am Malekith, and we are Svartalfer." The royal we, as it were.
no subject
Yet it was a detailed sharpness and curiosity that marked them all as who they were. He could not speak of her explicit kind just yet but Malekith found it hard to imagine any that came after them would be all too different. This world, another, another universe entirely. And it had made him wonder, but those wonderings were not yet fully developed.
His chin tips, light catching on the sharp of his masked cheek as she approaches with an elegance and grace he once knew. So small, was she young or their kind normally as this? Curious markings over skin that belongs to the night. For a moment, and only a moment, it brought an ache. Some familiar but old pain. It takes one purposed step to have him face her. The bow observed, and in such a way with such a manner he holds himself it may soon reveal itself to Lioriley that this particular elf comes from Nobility.
"Then allow me to satiate it," her question well met with a voice that sounded as if darkness itself was speaking. Gloved fingers pull the booklet over toward her, "This is Shiväisith, its written system is known as Todjydheenil." Observing reactions, a hand unfolding as if to permit her study of it. "I am Malekith, and we are Svartalfer." The royal we, as it were.