saffron wind

[golden_anvil]

Not everyone walks calmly into the streets of the Nexus. Not everyone is so distracted as to not see when the stones shift and the shops and buildings aren’t quite the same. She’s staring down into a sketchbook in her hands and muttering to herself for a fair distance before it even occurs to her to look up. Light brown eyes peer out from a mess of dark curls pinned up around her shoulders. She purses her lips in some amount of confusion and looks to her left, her right, and finally turns about in a small circle.

This stocky stranger traces her gaze over the various buildings as she slowly closes the sketchbook and returns it to a satchel strung across her shoulder by a long strap. After a moment of taking in her surroundings, she nods quietly and sighs. She shifts two things strapped across her back and shoulders: a satchel bag and a large pole with one end wrapped up in cloth. In less than a minute, she has the bag slung around her shoulders and over her back in the style of a backpack. The pole finds it’s way into her hands, the covered end pointing upward as she turns in a slow circle.

“This is…different.” Her voice is soft and deep, but quickly taking on a worried tone. The pole rests in the crook of one arm as she gathers up her skirt to tie off around her waist. Her leather sandals gently hug her all the way up to her knees. “All right, I’ll bite. Who did I offend this time?”

Comments

[rockandroll_swede]

The first thing Erik noticed was that she was carrying what looked like a sketchbook. As an artist himself the guitarist couldn't help but be drawn to other creative people within this Nexus. What a vast and colourful place it was! Full of strange creatures and different locations to visit. But he loved it. He was glad he followed his brother in through the portal into this magical world.

"You could say that, yes. Offend? No one? I can't help but notice your sketchpad there. Are you an artist too, vän?"

The young man's boyish smile now covering his face as he pushed some of his unruly black hair away from his face. His Swedish accent coming through in his speech.

[golden_anvil]

Artist, musician, occasional mad scientist... There are many things she inherits from her family, including their gift for getting a bit lost in the sauce when it comes to creativity. She raises a brow at his accent, racking her brain quickly to try and place it.

"Oh! Uh...ja? Och yag- Yag..." Her voice trails off and she purses her lips. "Tecknar? Ritar? I draw all kinds of things."

She laughs in spite of her nervousness. "Sorry, it's been ages since I spoke something like Swedish."

[rockandroll_swede]

Erik just giggled at her attempt to speak his language which was quite amusing more than anything else. But, he was not one to make fun since he was a warm-hearted boyish young man who loved to make new friends and get along with people.

"It is alright, you can speak English to me. Most do since I have many English speaking friends."

The British bands that he had met so far on his music tour. She drew all kinds of things and this interested the young musician. He pulled out a pencil from his bag and smiled. Would she be willing?

"Would I be able to draw you? I often draw people I've just met as a memory."

[golden_anvil]

"Oh thank goodness. Not to talk down any language, but I've learned so many over the years, I forget words all over the place."

She reaches up to her head, tussled curls twisted into a bun secured up top. Not her best hairdo, but certainly not her worst.

"You'd find some fast friends in my family with a habit like that. Go right ahead. I'll not stand in the way of creating a memory."

[rockandroll_swede]

"I know a few too. Mostly my own which is Swedish along with Finnish, Norwegian and English. There are still some words I struggle with in English but I am getting there slowly."

He smiled a little sheepishly as he prepared his sketchbook to draw her. Not even knowing her name Erik thought it prudent to be a polite young man and ask her first before he started applying pencil to paper.

"My name is Erik Ivarsson. What is yours?"

[golden_anvil]

"My first is Greek and a few variants of it. English is a wicked little language cause it borrows so heavily from everyone else."

She hugs her spear as he gets set up with his sketchbook. The politeness of his request is what really sold her on the man. Manners are everything in her family.

"Lysandra Kastaros. It means 'the defender of man with curly hair'. 'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Erik, son of Ivar."

[rockandroll_swede]

"You are Greek? Yes, my father is called Ivar. My brother is called Hunter I am not sure if you have met him yet. He's the same height as me but has shoulder length blond hair and is a singer."

Erik wondered if she really was like one of the ancient Greeks he'd read about in history books at school. She had the spear. What a find! He prepared his pencils, sharpening them into fine points and set aside his rubber eraser just in case he made a mistake.

"As for a pose you can decide on that one if you'd like."

He gave her a smile and got ready to sketch her.

[golden_anvil]

"Athens, if you can believe it, but I went to live with my father as a young adult with his side of the family."

Lysandra nods at the instruction and leans on her spear, allowing her head to fall ever so slightly to one side.

"You have me wondering who'd be happy having a proper life model to do their practice drawings off of."