Brine
It is both a blessing and a curse than Brine is completely oblivious to her open-booked expressions and futile small worded contributions to the party (a word she is clearly still hung up on). Blessing because had she known her absence of social skills were that indisputable, the mare wouldn’t have made it past the shadowy cover of the forest. A curse, because she truly needed to improve her social skills.
Another mare appears and Brine feels a sudden urge to run, though her legs too frozen in fear to cooperate. Would she say something? What is appropriate to respond to a Queen?
Upon her arrival, Brine feels immediate dismissal and a sudden wash of relief. Neverwhere, they call her, left Brine in a hallway of uncertainty. Is she welcome? Is she not? No one knows. No one cares. But hallelujah she is out of the field.
And a sense of dismissal is better than a definite banishment.
Oh, the small doses of light our shadowy-creature begs to find.
They all exchange pleasantries and Brine casually slips further and further from the group inch by inch. In fact, the blue painted mare nearly made it two feet back when Eurwen called upon her sincerely. And thank goodness, because Brine hadn’t figured out what to do once she had the room to flee.
“That sounds nice,” she emphasizes with enthusiasm and prays no one hears the underlying tone. The tone that would expose her fear of anything adventurous or new. So many things could go wrong, so many ways to die. But, she needs this. Ruth needs this.
“It was a pleasure Lilliana, thank you,” she offers with honest gratitude, something she could not pretend to ignore. And against her inner voice that tells her to not associate with strangers until she has determined they are not a killer, she quickly nods to Neverwhere in effort to acknowledge her existence without crossing an unruly boundary.
take notice of what light does—to everything
@[Neverwhere] @[lilliana] @[Eurwen]
![[Image: Brine-Signature.png]](https://i.ibb.co/0B2DW04/Brine-Signature.png)