k r y l l
She refuses to be swayed.
He's a smooth talker, that was for certain, but his use of force was something she doesn't approve of. Her ears stay flat on her skull, eyes watching the stallion's movements carefully; he calls her 'little dove' but already the name was ill-fitting; she was anything but a pure dove, her body used to the many uses of males she had endured, no, enjoyed. He said she could be precious, the most valued in his little band, but she'd been through enough trials with sweet-talkers with violent streaks, with strong faces and stronger teeth. She wasn't, isn't, fit for a herd, nor was she fit for interacting with other mares; as much as she enjoys the attention and love, or the fleeting moments of the mere promise of love, she is happy to be alone.
He coos at her that she could be his lead, and as much as the power sounds enticing, she knows that other mares wouldn't take kindly to a mare like her. Nor would she take kindly to them. His words are a soothing whisper and they slide, gentle and smooth, over her black hide, and for a moment, she sees herself believing him. But her head whispers back, 'no, you know better, you know he'll just use you then drop you when he's bored', and she is inclined to agree with the one thing that has kept her alive.
She hears his verbal amends for his force moments earlier, but she knows, deep down, that he is lying. She knows he has more physical strength than she, and if she isn't careful he could overpower her; she tosses her head, a soft snort escaping, her eyes locking back onto his; she smirks again, expression coy, and she walks to him, body brushing against his own, yin and yang in their own green pond. She draws on her seduction, and she is sure to brush closer as she walks, teeth grazing gently over his neck, her voice regaining the sultry pitch she loved so much. "You would take in one like me, and upset the delicate balance of your herd?" She coos at him, making another round of his body. "I am no herd-mare, either, I am unfit for the domestics." She laughs, a dry sound that suggests she isn't quite amused. "I am not fit for a lead, either...I am fit for pleasure and inevitable heartbreak, and it would be good for you to know that." She smirks again, pausing by his neck to give his mane a soft tug. Handsome though he was, some pretty-voiced stag wasn't going to change her mind.
She's set rules for a reason.