I'm your Queen, you're my Ruler.
Oh yes, she too longed to ‘borrow’ Magnus’ wings. But in her case it wasn’t a simple longing, no, she was actually obsessed with it and she really desired such a gift and would go far, really far, in attempts to obtain them. Maybe you can even say Esileif would go too far, because the wellbeing of those around her aren’t taken into consideration on her way to achieve her goals. Wings alone wouldn’t be enough anymore, before perhaps, but now there are too many winged creatures around. There is simply no way that the bay and faintly orangey white girl would be content with it. But underneath her bold, loud and fierce appearance there was a small child, someone quite insecure and looking for reassurance in the gifts she sees so much around her.
The heavily Spanish influenced mare keeps on stomping, growling and sneering in the direction of everything that displeases her. She can feel their eyes land upon her, following her as she stomps her way through the meadow. Only god knows how much she hates this place, like she is stuck somewhere without any future, without any possibilities. The meadow is just plain, horribly plain, and Esileif can simply not understand why those who flocked around here seemed to lack ambition. What use would your life have, what could you gain from it?
Her fit is disrupted by his voice. Esileif snorts loudly, jerking herself around – and she can only just maintain her balance while doing so – she turns to face the stranger. It takes her a moment to cast her eyes down, meeting the gaze of a short yet lean body of a dark male. Momentarily she forgets the thrown fit, blinking a few times as her two toned eyes look at him, before growling something from deep within her throat. ”I’m perfectly fine” she replies, a little too fast and without any friendliness. ’Oh well done Esi, that sounded very convincing’ she silently curses herself.
She mutters something underneath het breath, some more things about herself, but eventually somewhat relaxes. Her dark tail flicks through the air as the irritation hadn’t left her body completely. Yet Esileif forces herself to put on her best smile. There was no way that she would just tell a stranger about her own shortcomings, about the troubles she was facing. That wouldn’t be the grace of a queen. ”I’m Esileif” she instead responses, her gaze not leaving his. Although he might be her senior the tobiano girl is simply not able to put her shield down. To show him her true colors – that were quite softer than the hard ones she forced herself to show – would mean that she would reveal her weak side. And prey-animals like horses should never, ever, show their weaknesses. Or at least, that was how she thought.
Esileif