Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26517142-20190329121908/@comment-30014014-20190329125910

A gentle hum chimes at the frame of entrance as tiny little sparks gather by. Their shapes and motives give them the appearance of butterflies, should one come by closer. Well, not that it matters, since one of them separates from the group to flap all the way to Jeiel, to his shoulder. This one looked...more real than the rest of the congregation, a illusinary mock of this one.

It turns its eyes at the man who's shoulder it rests upon and promptly lifts its frontal paws in a greeting gesture. Basically, it's saying hi.

The congregation, however, begins to swirl in a seamless fashion. A rift, so to say, stabilized from afar, open enough for an average bodied individual to come walking out. And one does.

A golem...

Judging by her shoulders, which are reminescent of a archtypical golem's stone pads, she is a golem. Though her pad since long made off with the natural structure, instead embellished by a ever floating pair of gems lovely built to stretch across her arm which giving enough distance for one to make out the sleeves of her harlequin outfit.

An outfit dangling between regal and fashion. Pink at the heart, purple at the sides. Her top, making use of the long sleeves outfit while subtly revealing another within via a very modest cleavage adorned with a talisman.

Her pants, a white shade stopping where her violet boots start, metallic in function, re-painted in design.

The golem seeping out the rift had a seemingly bored expression. One fashioned by the snow-white mask tethered to her fair visage. The only break to her stoic demeanor would be the duality of the bells dangling at the tip of her ears, revealing a fairly light pink pigmentation, a stark contrast to her white mask. A mask depicting a somewhat neutral woman expression, allowing deeply royal rose irises to pour thorugh its eyesockets.

One with enough acuity in the arcane would be able to make the constant flickering of her hips' extremities, where her axes rest, ever phasing in and out of existence, as if battling the concept of illusion.

The woman takes a few steps out of the rift, her eyes wandering to the left and right. Her words, the first indication that the bored expression of her mask was just that, a thoughtless expression "These are some very well cared gardens. I do wonder who's hand tend to them..."

Her eyes do stop wandering as they sop on Jeiel and his close ones "Though it would be rude to assume I've come for your trimming techniques considering he's quick to boast interest in your surrounding. Then again, it's been a few."

Her eyes lower as one of her fingers comes to scratch her chin "Ohh, my apoplogies. You met my husband in those year, not me. My dear apologies for this little mixture of individuals".

The woman takes one step...and somehow phases through this singular boot note, stands before the trio, a regant's bow to all three. Literall all three as two glass clones of her direct herselves to each one "I bid you a fair welcome. I would have apologies for this intrusion, but as he indicated, it would seem that your gardens are open to guests. So, here I stand. Alexanditra, at your service".