03-27-2024, 07:43 PM
Volcan is not so lost in her self-pity that she misses the gentle voice from the darkness behind her.
She’d been young when the Deserts were raided, but the event had left her wary enough to seek out training in the ways of battle. This included being well-attuned to one’s surroundings and even in the relative peace of the day, she practices such habits. One ear had already been turned outward to capture any signs of movement behind her, and the words carry easily over the quiet babble of the river’s flow.
She lifts her head sharply, silvery locks fluttering a bit from the quick motion, and searches for the source. A black mare steps forward, though when the sunlight lands upon her coat she shimmers. It is beautiful enough that Volcan does not feel quite spooked as she might have been by some less attractive being. When her green eyes settle upon the other’s face, she is further soothed from the prior startle – the mare’s delicate features match the beauty of her coat.
Volcan tilts her head, fascination piqued by the appearance of this lovely creature. Her voice is equally appealing when she speaks more certainly, extending a greeting which Volcan smiles in response to.
“Hello,” she replies in kind, dipping her nose in a small nod. But the next words take her a little by surprise again and she tilts her head. Her, familiar? Has she ever met this mare before?
“You must be mistaken,” she brushes off the observation. “I think I would remember if we’d met.” Something of an ironic statement, though – hadn’t her memories once been manufactured, mere fancies of a dream world? She shakes the notion from her thoughts with a slight toss of her mane. The sand held within it glints once more in the clear sunlight of spring.
She files away the other’s name with another minute nod of her angular head. “Volcan.” Her own name seems too heavy in comparison, coarse like pumice on raw skin. Luckily, Deiti draws her attention away and onto the state of the day. Small talk… one of her downfalls. Much as she had tried in the past, the skill of conversation often eludes her.
“It is,” she agrees, looking back toward the river and the blooming trees. “I am glad for the warmth.” There is veritable truth in this claim; spring and summer could at least give her the illusion, if she were to close her eyes, that she is back home again. That perhaps when she looks up again, her father will be there standing tall and gallant with a smile and loving embrace. Alas, such daydreams are not afforded her at the moment.
But the distraction has been enough that she doesn't notice, at first, that Deiti is stepping closer until the other mare is at her side. She blinks her green eyes in mild surprise and smiles again. “What about you? I can't imagine the cold is very pleasant when you have scales.” A rather blunt observation, but then, she has never been a girl of much finesse before.
@
Deiti
She’d been young when the Deserts were raided, but the event had left her wary enough to seek out training in the ways of battle. This included being well-attuned to one’s surroundings and even in the relative peace of the day, she practices such habits. One ear had already been turned outward to capture any signs of movement behind her, and the words carry easily over the quiet babble of the river’s flow.
She lifts her head sharply, silvery locks fluttering a bit from the quick motion, and searches for the source. A black mare steps forward, though when the sunlight lands upon her coat she shimmers. It is beautiful enough that Volcan does not feel quite spooked as she might have been by some less attractive being. When her green eyes settle upon the other’s face, she is further soothed from the prior startle – the mare’s delicate features match the beauty of her coat.
Volcan tilts her head, fascination piqued by the appearance of this lovely creature. Her voice is equally appealing when she speaks more certainly, extending a greeting which Volcan smiles in response to.
“Hello,” she replies in kind, dipping her nose in a small nod. But the next words take her a little by surprise again and she tilts her head. Her, familiar? Has she ever met this mare before?
“You must be mistaken,” she brushes off the observation. “I think I would remember if we’d met.” Something of an ironic statement, though – hadn’t her memories once been manufactured, mere fancies of a dream world? She shakes the notion from her thoughts with a slight toss of her mane. The sand held within it glints once more in the clear sunlight of spring.
She files away the other’s name with another minute nod of her angular head. “Volcan.” Her own name seems too heavy in comparison, coarse like pumice on raw skin. Luckily, Deiti draws her attention away and onto the state of the day. Small talk… one of her downfalls. Much as she had tried in the past, the skill of conversation often eludes her.
“It is,” she agrees, looking back toward the river and the blooming trees. “I am glad for the warmth.” There is veritable truth in this claim; spring and summer could at least give her the illusion, if she were to close her eyes, that she is back home again. That perhaps when she looks up again, her father will be there standing tall and gallant with a smile and loving embrace. Alas, such daydreams are not afforded her at the moment.
But the distraction has been enough that she doesn't notice, at first, that Deiti is stepping closer until the other mare is at her side. She blinks her green eyes in mild surprise and smiles again. “What about you? I can't imagine the cold is very pleasant when you have scales.” A rather blunt observation, but then, she has never been a girl of much finesse before.
@
Deiti