private/moonmade — angel eyes

[ISIDORE.]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border: 0%;width:65%;text-align:justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13.5px;"]His gaze shifts between Moonmade's, jaw hollowing and teeth gripping the insides of his mouth as he sways. "Right ... knocking, right." He'd dropped the habit, knocking before entering. Not that he was nosy or anything, but entering without notice seemed to always give him a complex glance into the layers of people they kept hidden. Initially, and even now, he felt bad for that raw chance, but ... but it was better to see the truth of what a person was, rather than the cheap lie they tried to bargain with you for. Isidore stays silent, head hanging to listen to Moon talk. He knows he can say something, about the topic of etiquette, but he refrains. How proper was it for someone to try and prove their etiquette? Rather it showed the insecure holes in someone's manners, he thought. Other than that, he's more so quiet with the lion's gaze on his journal. His teeth are set, grinding softly, watching Moon absorb the images, but faltering eventually under his gaze.

But Moon always has something else to say, and it makes him huff, crack, grin a little and shake his head. Yeah, his movements disagree with the lion's crude marks, but the upturned eyes and pursed smile can't help but accept his joke, for as entertaining as it was. "Maybe those are my still-lifes, you don't know." He chuckles, but he settles, head swinging to look out the window. Good? He thought they were good? Well, that was a start for him at least, no one ever had much to say about his journaling ... not his mom or dad, not even Fleur. He would only get a 'okay, alright' from her because she was looking to redress his bandages or feed him a spoonful of something warm, she didn't have the mind to think about anything else in the moment really. Maybe that's why it took him so much longer to get better, because everyone was so worried about his wound healing, but not really worried about Dory getting better. What a bitter, passing thought. He rejected it and look onward to Moon as he opened the closet.

He didn't feed into the suspense, at least, he tried not to. Isidore could feel himself leaning forward, a lifted paw grazing the floor, itching to step forward. The serval followed up beside the lion, squinting and staring at the array of plants ahead of him. "... Thanks ..." It was a word of habit, not so much meaning it at first. Of course, he had gratitude for the closet being opened, but his thought process took over his actions for a moment, looking up at the herbs, an altar of opportunity. "Right ... thank you, uh ..." He faintly scratched at his chin, looking back towards Moon. "You ... you should pick one out for me to draw, one that you like, cause uh ..." Isidore concentrated back at the shelves of herbs, lips parted and almost faintly smiling, "I've got no clue about what any of these plants are." Yeah, none of these plants were familiar to him, he was more of a tree guy, you know? Flowers and herbs were a new fascination of his.