12-31-2015, 04:04 PM
I am iron and I forge myself
Lagertha stares at the little margay, silently impressed at its bravado in front of a creature many times its own size. That is loyalty and foolishness all wrapped into one itty bitty body. She can’t help but chortle in the back of her throat, which also serves to lessen the intimidation.
Frankly, she doesn’t remember as much as Lucetta does about their first encounter, only that she’s sure she’s met the green mare before, years and years ago, before Scorch and Brunhild and Quark. Good lord, has it been that long? No wonder she can’t quite place the mare, and she imagines there wasn’t a margay companion to hiss at her then, either. Lucetta. Hmmm, the name doesn’t ring a bell either, but that’s because the filly she’d met didn’t have a name to give her. Without a name, one drifts into oblivion. She’s lucky her color is unusual (and by unusual, I mean not bay or black or gray).
“Lucetta?” she mulls it over aloud, as if the sound of it in her mouth would jog her memory. “Can’t say I remember that name. But you were… just a filly then, is that right?” A thought occurs to her, and she tilts her head to one side, eyeing the mare. The jungle is vast and seems to have an infinite number of places to hide. But for so long... possibly alone. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She doesn’t completely understand.
“Why do you hide?”
Frankly, she doesn’t remember as much as Lucetta does about their first encounter, only that she’s sure she’s met the green mare before, years and years ago, before Scorch and Brunhild and Quark. Good lord, has it been that long? No wonder she can’t quite place the mare, and she imagines there wasn’t a margay companion to hiss at her then, either. Lucetta. Hmmm, the name doesn’t ring a bell either, but that’s because the filly she’d met didn’t have a name to give her. Without a name, one drifts into oblivion. She’s lucky her color is unusual (and by unusual, I mean not bay or black or gray).
“Lucetta?” she mulls it over aloud, as if the sound of it in her mouth would jog her memory. “Can’t say I remember that name. But you were… just a filly then, is that right?” A thought occurs to her, and she tilts her head to one side, eyeing the mare. The jungle is vast and seems to have an infinite number of places to hide. But for so long... possibly alone. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She doesn’t completely understand.
“Why do you hide?”
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons