[center][color=7ea7d8][b][h1][i][b]S[/b] o l i a[/i][/h1][/b][/color][/center]
[right][hr][color=gray][b]Windward Island[/b]
Port Harbor, The Sunken Shephard
[@SunsetWanderer][/color][hr][/right]
Solia had spent her life under scrutinous eyes—the eyes of Maelstrom’s people, the eyes of her siblings. The eyes of her father. She had weathered them proudly for decades, preened under the compliment of inspection. And yet now, and for weeks past, the eyes of strangers unsettled her. Stone was not given to quaking easily, though, and even for the disquiet within she endured Evander’s prying with utter stillness. Let him see, then. Let him know.

If indeed he had, and did, he said nothing of it. His reaction was entirely inscrutable to her, and though she was not yet fully accustomed to analyzing the full range of people's emotions, she was quite sure he was simply...tough to read. What he did offer brought her no less discomfort though—the truth. Her warm smile, having survived those tenser moments, withered then.
[color=7ea7d8]“You are right, it is not often. And what a terrible thing,”[/color] she said softly. Her stalwart softness returned. [color=7ea7d8]“It is a pleasure to meet you, Evander. My name is Solia.”[/color]

Content though she was that he had not gleaned her true nature, she did not offer her hand as she knew was customary in friendly greetings. She knew well enough to temper herself and not crush another’s hand, but others had remarked before how distinct the angel’s flesh felt. Not quite stone, yet far from flesh. Wholey unnatural. 

[color=7ea7d8]“Indeed, I doubt the waves will be gentle with us. Though from what I’ve been told, you from the Frozen Sea are no strangers to harshness.”[/color]

A moment, if that, passed before she realized that perhaps she had conveyed that wrongly. 

[color=7ea7d8]“Pardon. What I mean…”[/color] she stumbled, slightly. [color=7ea7d8]“Is that I’m sure you’ll have endured worse weather in your time. Might we have an agreement?”[/color]