bearbones ☾

much like ermal, seren had little interaction with birds in her early years. not from a lack of them being around, she's mostly sure there was a normal amount of birds fluttering about in her childhood, but she never paid them any mind. she never appreciated things like birds and sunrises, how pleasant trees smelled or how much a good night's rest was worth. she'd been so hungry for life back then, angry and wanting to do nothing more than throw a few punches and feel blood on her knees. twenty years old, and she felt like she'd lived a lifetime in those years.

alas, she can appreciate things now, before it was too late. the softness of the burgundy dress clinging to her fair frame, the smell of the herbs that filled her pantries and integrated their scents into her hands, and the music sung by the birds of the city.

her posture is straight, formal. the posture of someone raised a proper lady, maybe, but the scars suggest some form of a military beat it into her. there's a softness, a curiosity in her gaze, as she observed the man with the birds and the music from afar. she'd always wanted to learn to play music, but she'd never had patience for it. music, theater, art - they were things she admired, but things that brought her no sense of satisfaction. not like a knife in flesh used to. not like a cleaned wound or neatly done stitches did now. despite her lack of effort in learning, she can still appreciate these things, and the people who are talented enough to make something of them.

her eyes trace the sea for a long moment as she ebbs closer. the birds, in general, don't have much issue with her; she's quiet, gentle moving. people look at her and see something that is, was, dangerous. they see scars and lines, they see haunting in her eyes, but the birds don't see that. they see who she's become. something softer, kinder - or, maybe they just see the woman with the little feeder of seeds on her roof. probably the latter, but she's something of a romantic and likes to believe the prior.

"very lovely song," she said, her tone soft, not wanting to spook the animals, as she gets close enough. the skirt of her burgandy hued dress is gathered in her hand, not wanting to stumble on it, and she offers him a polite incline of her head. most people, she knew, would probably smile. she doesn't smile, though. "have you played for long?" she inquires politely, interest present in her eyes as she nods to the instrument.