Hoshor Plains dife

a man of moontide; rodyn, she thought his name was. him? maleah parrots, gaze flickering sidelong; she did not disapprove, per se, but she didn't know if he was much of her type. come to think of it, she did not know if she had one.
she felt awkward, then, increasingly shy. her ears bend outward as she scans the testosterone-fuelled crowd, squinting to better see faces and grimacing over their posturing. i think personality matters more than anything, she quips, giving a playful lift of a brow. but he seems... nice, i guess. at least he's not a douche.
as many men as she wanted. the beryl only grew more flustered at the thought; the mental image of faceless men bedding mireille. she did not know if it disgusted or excited her. do you think you'll ever settle down one day with somebody? maleah did not know if she herself ever could; or would.