I'm your Queen, you're my Ruler.
If she would only know that he could so easily see through her appearances she would have to fight another inner war. If she knew that he knew her walls would crumble and leave her vulnerable and upset. The little girl would be out there in the open. Well, that was one option. The other was that the two toned Spanish girl would pretend like she didn’t know, like he didn’t know, and just keep the façade up. Probably with another thrown fit or something like that. Yet Esileif would easily admit one thing; that she still had a lot to learn. The why was something the short male could only guess, if she would admit it all things would be for nothing. No. She had to become better, to show who she was, to become more than just a herd born mare that nobody knows.
Where her own words had been unfriendly, harsh even, his are almost painful. He know exactly what to say to strike her, to hurt her, and all Esileif can do is back away a few steps while she snorts softly. Her blue and brown eyes widen in surprise, momentarily showing how she really feels, instead of showing him a mask. ”Then let me say it in this way, Fynnegan the Mighty, I find it more comfortable if you address me by my name.” She replies once she has put up her mask again. Her voice is soft, words not harsh or mean, neither meant in such way. Yet she also doesn’t know how to behave. He might be short, but his personality clearly isn’t and Esileif clearly doesn’t know how to handle it.
”I thought that my path was clear when I left my father’s herd.” Her gaze travels to stare somewhere in the distance, looking at the mountain peaks that remind her of her former home. She had spoken the truth, she had thought so easily of finding a fitting home, a home that could help her achieve her goals, but she had been terribly wrong. ”And I’m not sure if an unexpected path will lead to the same results as the expected one.”
Esileif turns her head back towards him to look at him again, her gaze cast somewhat down, not because she feels better than him or to belittle him, but if she wouldn’t she would be looking over him instead of at him. ”The Dale?” she repeats, tilting her head a little as her gaze meets his. She had never heard for such place, thus far she only knew about the meadow, the mountains that once had been her home and the Gates and the Valley that were possible future homes. ”I don’t want to try anything” she replies, maybe a little too fast and to short, but she isn’t snapping or throwing harsh words at him. ”I want to succeed, not to try..” Unspoken were the words that she was afraid to fail.
Esileif