C i t y
A few fools, a few jesters of the like, many pass by without a thought and some try an approach – she’s chased several away by now. A big boy, she can smell boyness from where she stands, he’s off in the distance and he’s rumbling for her. He approaches without an answer, oh yes, he’s big. She likes big. She likes smart too though and in her experience big often means dumb. He doesn’t seem too oafy at first glance, she ponders, turning broadside and eyes him with her facing eye. She sucks in a breath of cold autumnal air, her tail, long and creamy blond, tosses a few times and rests to spill across her freckled hocks. Her ears flip upright and then one back again, she says nothing to him and slides her sleepy gaze to the next subject.
She. To be truthful she’s always preferred woman – in all aspects, they’re just better. Conversation, sex, fighting, leaders, lovers. Those hard yellow eyes of her betray no interest at all, though, and she again tosses her thick spiraled tail flick back and forth and then rest. She wonders deviously if any of them plan on having a fresh womb – even a Queen, her eyes find the spotted mare, can have plans for another’s womb. The Moth’s child squirms in her, but her body shows nothing of it. Come spring she may have to fight. Her eyes drift back to the dappled man only to linger for a second and find the little mare again; she has a n interesting inquiry, City thinks on her answer for a moment. “Desperation.” She laughs, but it is not of humor or light-hearted fun, it is a bit darker, a little manic even. Though her stare doesn’t quite say ‘lunatic’, there is certainly something sinister clawing beneath the surface of her sulfur gaze. Her voice is raspy and low, still feminine, but steely.
The same desperation that bring you here. Her eyes do not stray, but hone, even bore into the eyes of Crota. Small but strong, – maybe even fierce, intelligent. She startles in place as he slides out and stands rather close. Her tail slashes this time, four or five times instead of once. A hind hoof striking the ground, flinging earth from the gauge in the turf. She is not accustomed to being snuck upon, but it peaks her interest that it has been done. She says nothing, doesn’t strike out, only looking at him, head low and eyes half-lit, like a displeased cat. She bands an ear on him as he speaks his name, his home. His common sense of the whole matter certainly impresses her, but she lets none of that notion cross her face. Instead she sighs and looks to Orion, then Crota, and back to Ruan, “City.” She nods, cordial but not necessarily quaint and full of friendliness. “I was away when the mountain was raised, but I’ve heard stories. Seen some of the aftermath, but I’ve not travelled far,” She looks to Crota, “The Kingdoms are dead, yes?” And now to Ruan her golden eyes settle, “Is there any militia, governments, groups? If it is a simple herd you’re offering,” She finds each one again and loops back to settle on the purple-spotted stallion. “I’ll pass.” She breathes between words. “But I’m open to other sorts of opportunities.”
in the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
probably errors galore, forgive me! i didn't have time to edit before going to stuff my face with food and know me i'll be be much too lazy to run through and fix stuff so just pretend i'm literate <33
@[Orion's Belt] - @[crota] - @[Ruan]
