The young dragon dipped her head in modest acknowledgement of his intentions in talking to her that way, and she felt comfortable that they were on the same page again. There was no need to discuss or prolong it.
Far more interesting was the answer to her follow-up question, to which she listened with total attention, ears high and gaze levelled on her father as he spoke evenly, with a mixture of cryptic and clear answers that she was quite familiar with. Few questions about the All-Mother gave rise to completely objective answers, she had been forced to accept. Subjectivity was the thing she struggled with, the ifs and buts and maybes and sometimes which drove ugly rivets into a world she would have much preferred to be clear-cut and opaque. But the world didn't exist to suit her, hadn't been designed and born with her desires in mind. She was the one privileged to inhabit it. Bennet would learn to adjust herself and her expectations to best fit it, not the other way around.
Having turned her eyes back to the birds, quietly enthralled with their sharp faces and the way they watched her, she felt calmed, at peace with the fact that she didn't fully understand his answer. Understanding came with time - and with worship.
"Can we pray here, now?" she asked quietly, the playfulness of moments past now gone from her body - and in its place, a calm reverence, a stoic acceptance. She moved to stand in the centre of the mysterious ring, surrounded on all sides by the discarded antlers of mighty stags long gone from this place, and their sharp, curving magnificence awed and humbled her. She had no doubt this was a special place for someone, somewhere, and dipped her head, eyes closed, and the swift sound of her father's voice to lift her soul to that comfortable, otherworldly place.
(This post was last modified: Jan 16, 2017, 11:10 AM by Bennet.)