Illogical Etchings
"Gold Dust Illusions..." Sharla stands from where she'd been inspecting the lode of sparkles and shakes her head, still staring at false lustre. "Well, it must be true what they say about fools, eh, Mel?"
Melia blinks at a furious, rapid pace. "I-I-- What do they do- say about, um, fools?"
Rather than answer, Sharla swivels a disbelieving gaze on her companion. "Are you alright there, Melia?"
Calling her name twice in the span of a minute - Sharla must know how to push her buttons, and love to do it. It's the only logical explanation for her palpable concern at Melia's foolish (damned foolish!) behavior.
Isn't it?
"N-no, Sharla, I'm fine. Quite alright."
Sharla laughs warmly. "You're like the opposite of Kasharpa Water, aren't you? You freeze instantly."
Cultural knowledge about the locale of interest - yes, Homs are known for this. High Entia are scholars, scientists and academics, but Homs just know things.
Right now, Melia really just feels like she doesn't know a thing. But Sharla smiles so brightly at her, so unimpressed by the unimpressiveness of Melia's behavior.
Is it really that easy? To just...comport yourself among your acquaintances, as if they're not expecting a fine show of manners and education?
She'd always been taught that this would never be so. She's not sure she could ever shake the belief.
But indeed, it seems that Sharla isn't expecting anything at all, except perhaps for Melia to continue acting awkward, as she has already proven herself such a fine hand at it.
"Well. Um. Shall we collect the gold dust, then?"
"No, no," Sharla reassures her, still laughing lightly, "it's just sand. Hardly valuable."
Melia frowns. "Not valuable to you? But it's beautiful. Your eyes lit up when you saw it."
No matter sand or gold, it's not very useful in this powdery form, that much is true, and Melia's not suggesting that they haul it up and take it to a blacksmith, or the Gem Man, to be pressed into a setting (perhaps makeup, a highlighter for the cheeks? It would look gaudy on Melia, but on Sharla...), but for Sharla to simply dismiss it as "hardly valuable" is a saddening thing.
Sharla, meanwhile, has gasped and put a hand to her cheek, in motion to cover her eyes of which she has so recently been reminded. Then, she recovers, partially: "You were watching me that closely?"
Not that Melia really could have been, considering that Sharla's back was turned away as she inspected the collection point. But yes, of course she pays attention. Always.
"Look at you, White Songbird," says Sharla slowly, tasting the idea of calling Melia such a careful name. "I should have known you'd be so perceptive."
"Well," Melia demurrs, "usually when I name things I'm not so descriptive. Black Panel, Blue Blood... Shulk loves them, though."
"Dunban loves mine. I suppose I'm an equal-opportunities type." It seems they're continuing with the coy little game of abstraction, then. "You're much nicer than a Death Bangle - almost like a High Entia Jewel." And nothing like a surprise whorl of Devious Gravity.
Surely she's not brave enough to say it. Surely Sharla would just laugh again, and not in a nice way. Surely...
Of course, she just blurts it, suddenly and strong. "That makes you my Sacred Panther, then."
And Sharla does laugh, but it's very nice: sharp and angular and sweet.