Silver Moraine lover lay me down inside the garden soil

”No?” she questioned delightfully, appreciate the innocence of his dishonesty. She easily saw through his facade, as she did with most others she encounters — especially men, who were exceedingly simple and transparent. Food, territory, company… it was all the male kind ever wanted. It made sense, as wolves were pack animals, meant to commune with others and work together for mutual success. As such, Indie worked best as a part of a team — but her successes, sometimes, were not so mutual. 

The inky chanteuse chuckled and lowered her head to be closer to King despite her newfound elevation. ”I’m Indie,” she greeted, returning her decorum with an elaborate bow and sweep of her finely-sculpted maw. This custom had grown on her during her time as a Nereid, as the matriarch had a commanding presence and such formality only seemed appropriate. But now she loved the pomp of it, the reaction it procured, the twist and arc of her body; she curtsied often and at any given opportunity. 

She regarded the man from her vantage point. He was young, but grown; seemingly naive, but somehow had struck out on his own. In her mind, the woman thumbed through her catalogue of characters but could find none that fit this stranger. The femme fatale that Kjalarr had met, the siren the drudges knew, nor Salish’s wilting flower would do. Perhaps King was a playful, unencumbered soul — perhaps they affiliate over a sense of levity.

”Well, if you are not lonely, then you will not mind if I leave.” Her lips pulled back into a teasing smile and the mummer’s aurulent gaze flashed, alluding to her feigned seriousness. Without waiting for a response, Indie turned on her feathered heels and made to leave, preparing to jump down from the promontory — but not without an ancillary toss of her mane, and moments later, her gaze smoldered over one shoulder to look  down upon him. ”αντιο σας.” she dismissed, summoning the foreign word of the sirens, well practiced upon her dexterous tongue and sounding as natural as if she had been raised upon themyscira herself. Indie hoped he was not too pure, and might be able to see through her small game.