[Alloran has a little trouble telling humans apart when they don't have any particularly unusual features. He's not really wired to pay as much attention to sounds as people who naturally communicate through them are, either, but he starts to have an idea after listening to this one for a bit, and approaches at a leisurely pace. In his hands, held carefully against his body, he carries a small pot with a tiny, peculiar golden tree growing from it.
Yep. Yeah, that's Stacia, he's almost entirely sure. He'll wait politely for her to finish, fiddling very delicately with a petite flowing stem as he does in an attempt to not just start daydreaming and lose track of time and events. Whether that succeeds...
it doesn't succeed, his pupils dilate and he goes still, thinking of the greater tree this tiny one was cut from, the constellations of tiny blue flowers among its many branches.]
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Yep. Yeah, that's Stacia, he's almost entirely sure. He'll wait politely for her to finish, fiddling very delicately with a petite flowing stem as he does in an attempt to not just start daydreaming and lose track of time and events. Whether that succeeds...
it doesn't succeed, his pupils dilate and he goes still, thinking of the greater tree this tiny one was cut from, the constellations of tiny blue flowers among its many branches.]