12-08-2017, 08:27 AM
Starlin
“I’m Starlin,” she replies with a polite nod of her dark head, “Warrior of Nerine. Well, warrior-in-training, anyway.” The grullo filly has not yet completed her first battle against a genuineopponent. Mocking is not an accurate test of skill; she needs a true victory under her belt. Volcan’s assessment (that Starlin is soft and gentle) is not entirely inaccurate. The scars on her piebald hide are far from impressive against Volcan’s, but they are there nonetheless: albeit fewer and far more superficial.
The difference between them is less than either compared to the bay stallion that approaches them. He is all but covered in scars, but it is the large black wings and his inquiry about an army that solidifies his identity for Starlin. He must be Brennen.
Not dead, after all, as Nerine has assumed, but rather gone to serve another realm.
At least it isn’t Hyaline, Starlin thinks with a small smile, and at least Nayl is no longer queen of Nerine. She might have been inclined to feel something stronger than curiosity toward the bay Brennen, bound by kingdom loyalties and all. As it stands, she gives him a friendly smile and a wordless nod in greeting.
Volcan’s answer to the stallion’s question gives hope to the young filly; perhaps she might be an asset to their kingdom. City is their leader of war, but Starlin has learned enough to know that the more of them there are, the better. Even the mightiest of warriors can be outnumbered.
“We could use you in Nerine then,” she tells the silver bay mare. “We are rebuilding our army in the hopes of creating something even greater than the Amazons of old.” The blood of the jungle runs strong in the seaside kingdom (even if it is thin in Starlin herself) and the ideals of a glory do not fade quickly from bloodlines like Echion’s. Starlin can’t know that this mare has jungle blood as well, only that she seems likely to be a valuable member of her kingdom and its army.
The difference between them is less than either compared to the bay stallion that approaches them. He is all but covered in scars, but it is the large black wings and his inquiry about an army that solidifies his identity for Starlin. He must be Brennen.
Not dead, after all, as Nerine has assumed, but rather gone to serve another realm.
At least it isn’t Hyaline, Starlin thinks with a small smile, and at least Nayl is no longer queen of Nerine. She might have been inclined to feel something stronger than curiosity toward the bay Brennen, bound by kingdom loyalties and all. As it stands, she gives him a friendly smile and a wordless nod in greeting.
Volcan’s answer to the stallion’s question gives hope to the young filly; perhaps she might be an asset to their kingdom. City is their leader of war, but Starlin has learned enough to know that the more of them there are, the better. Even the mightiest of warriors can be outnumbered.
“We could use you in Nerine then,” she tells the silver bay mare. “We are rebuilding our army in the hopes of creating something even greater than the Amazons of old.” The blood of the jungle runs strong in the seaside kingdom (even if it is thin in Starlin herself) and the ideals of a glory do not fade quickly from bloodlines like Echion’s. Starlin can’t know that this mare has jungle blood as well, only that she seems likely to be a valuable member of her kingdom and its army.
grit & grace.