[open] Si vis pacem, para bellum; any

[Cryil]

Cryil

tatter x rishiri

This was a good of a place as any. The field is where the wayward went to find homes and Cryil was no different. She did not have the energy to play cat and mouse and carry on coy conversations while she twitched and skittered playfully about. Cryil was certainly not that dainty kind of mare.

Standing at a clear 16.2 hands, she is leggy and well formed. Her blood saw to that. She stands with the likes of warriors instead of trapped damsels. The blood bay paint embodies and enjoys her statuesque form and uses it to part the clusters of tittering mares, enthralled in gossip and slitted eyes. Cryil pays it to mind as she finds her own little plot of ground to stand with the warmth of spring sunlight warms her spine.

Idly, the two toned tail flicks over her hip to stir the fresh crop of spring flies. The grass was sweeter this year but the insects wasted no time to nibble at her tender flank. She sighs and kicks a leg out in sheer annoyance before con tuning her grazing. Hopefully someone would be along soon so she could leave this damn field.

it's short but come scoop her up  shes ready to go.

[Reave]

i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

There is an itch along his spine that he can’t quite seem to shake. There is nothing physical in that itch, nothing that a low-hung branch could solve, much as he might like it to. No, this is in his mind far more than anywhere else. He knows it, and yet he still cannot shake it.

Rune draws him here, though Reave isn’t quite sure why. Still, it is better than pacing as his mood grows ever more foul by the hour. Why the large raptor would wish to bring him to the field of all places when he is barely fit for company, he doesn’t know. Perhaps his meddling companion imagines company is exactly the cure he needs.

Or purpose. Who knows with Rune. (Reave does, truthfully. They share a soul after all, but some days it’s easier to pretend otherwise.)

Still, he stalks forward. Rune was right after all, even if Reave is loath to admit it. He is not a creature made to be alone, and he has been alone far too much of late. Though his face is missing it’s characteristic smirk, his vibrant blue eyes are just as sharp and alive as ever. He scans the field boredly, gaze skipping over forms with careless inattention. It isn’t until several passes later that he catches on a tall mare standing idly apart.

For a time, he simply watches her. When she does nothing more than snatch a few bites and chase away flies, he releases a soft sigh before shifting forward. It seems he would learn little from here, and he is hardly in a mood to dig deeper before something jumps out to catch his interest.

“You don’t look overly thrilled to be here,” he offers by way of greeting when he has reached a conversational distance. He is restless, gaze moving over her as his tail flicks and hooves shift. Stillness has never suited him very well. Lips pulling faintly up - a ghost of the devilishly charming grin he normally wears - he sweeps one last glance over her before lifting his eyes to meet hers. “I’m Reave.”

reave

@Cryil