Rock the treetop -Panoramic-

Days were becoming hard. The war, the doom right around the corner. Amaranta wasn't ready for all this, the drama. All she'd ever wanted was to find a hero to sweep her off her hooves, but now she had to worry about her archery, her music, everything about war. She'd never been one for fighting, being more interested in human fashion. So usually, she went off to hide from all the fighting and listen to her ipod in the trees, away from the fear and drama.

Today was the same. Tucked in a little section of tree behind her home, her pink headphones in her ears, listening to "Call me, Maybe" loudly enough that anyone next to her would hear it faintly. Her green eyes were focused elsewhere as her pigtails blew in the breeze. Pink hooves click at the trunk of the tree in time with the music.

It had been a little shocking to hear the sudden violin going along with her tapping hoof. Looking over, her green eyes widened, the headphones being removed. "Uhhhh...Hello?" The greeting was spoken questionably, and for a reason! Some random satyr here, violining all over. Her eyebrow raised. Shifting, she leaped down from the branch she'd been perched on, landing with a clop on the wooden pathway underneath. "Can I help you?"

The satyress raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, her hands on her hips. "There's nothing wrong with that song. And how are you going to pierce the heavens with music if you're playing something you don't feel passionately about?" Ama shook her head, pulling her harp from her back and plucking at it gently. "And it's better with more than one player. You seem tense. Lets play something together?" she offered, her manicured fingers plucking at the strings gently in a "Come ooooon" way.

Ama would smile at him, playing along gracefully with his own tune. Letting him choose what would make him feel better. "I've got to help my fellow satyr, even if you all are a buncha nymph-chasers." she teased, plucking away. She was always rather sensitive about how few goat men wanted to get with a goat girl. Nymphs were prettier after-all...and not as weird. Pffft, men. She went back to plucking. "So what's on your mind? Maybe sharing will help ease your heart?"

"Really? I wouldn't know. No satyr's ever looked my way." Running her fingers over the strings, she watched him curiously. It had been a hard time, being alone most of her life. But she'd tried to be a trooper. When he spoke of his problem, she nodded. "I know what you mean... It's hard coming here to sleep on my own when all of this....horror is going on. I've been having nightmares..." She blew a small raspberry with her lips. "Wanna stay with me so I won't be alone? We can listen to whatever station you want on the radio?" she offered, smiling. "We'll have company...which would be a first for me." It'd be nice not to have to sleep alone, and wake up to an empty home.

"Mi radio is su radio." She didn't actually know Spanish or she would have said it better, but hey, they said it on Lion King! The young satyress turned and lead him towards her home. "Yeah, I don't like Nymphs much. I mean, I wouldn't let anyone go around smacking them or anything, but still." She shrugged. "Do you like coke? It's the only kind of soda I've got right now."

They would reach her home quite quickly, and it was a pretty nice looking place. A simple shack made of red-stained wood and inside was decorated in pale pinks and light teals. It was one room, with a large poofy couch and a bed. Some simple furniture here and there. "Hope you don't mind. It's pink everywhere."

At the statement that he can't love a nymph that isn't his mom, her pointed little ears "Perked" you could say. "So you really don't like nymphs, huh?" she asked, walking along still. When they reached the cabin, she offered him a cold coke and some chips. "I usually save the healthy food for dinner at camp. And pink's my favorite color. Why not sleep in it?" she asked, smiling at him. "I've had to order most of it. I wish I could just go to town." Pouting, she opened the chip bag and crunched on a few. Behind her, she clicked on the bright pink radio covered in stickers. She was a 15 year old girl, give her a break.

Ama stared at him eating the chips like a crazed person, slurping soda. With a raise of her eyebrow, the satyress chuckled. "You really are a city boy aren't you. Chewing like that." Leaning back, she nodded. "Near-death? What happened?" she asked, running her fingers through one of her pigtails, removing any tangles.