Ygritte
03-19-2016, 05:21 PM
BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
And the hoof thuds that reached those rounded lobes belong to a bay and salmon woman.
Ygritte moved about the field frequently, haunting it and constantly searching for new recruits like that of a child and a long lost doll. Each time she returned, it humbled her, reminding her of what it was once like to be lost. The time of year was an absolute burden as the field was hot with bodies and the scent of estrus hung thickly like a perfumed cloud but the coral pointed frame moves effortlessly among the throng of horses, glancing from time to time as she allowed her senses to seek out another.
On this particular day, amber pools find that of a striped mare having herself a drink from the shallow creek bed. Even as time had molded her, recruiting never got much easier for Ygritte. She preferred to shy away and keep to herself especially after the time passing since Mandan had left. There had been an emptiness in her heart and mind. It was a black hole that consumed her for so long till the void sealed itself and she managed to function again but the scar tissue was hard and thick. So with a bit of a tangled smile, she approaches the hybrid woman before dropping her own skull to sip at the liquid. Lobes flicker to and fro as she is cautious of any overzealous stallions that might mistaken a pair of drinking mares as an easy target.
The flower crowned bay lifts her delicate skull, the corners of her lips drawn up as cocoa pools swim with curiosity. "Hope I'm not interrupting you, or if you mind company. I'm Ygritte." Tones are low but solid like a revolver wrapped in burgundy velvet. Sensual, intriguing and could very well get it's point across with very little effort. "I imagine I know the answer but what brings you to the field?" Yes, it was silly but the mare knows there is a procedure all horses seem to follow when they are in the field.
Like an age old script. The pages worn soft with wear.
Attention is upon the exotic mare, pinnacles flickering at times at the sounds surrounding them. When it seemed as if a stallion was staring too long or edging too close, the bay would instantly snap her neck to bare down upon the silly stag, lobes sewn tightly against her skull and eyes reflecting death before they moved along to a more "receptive" lady. "Sorry, but I'm sure you see tis is not the best season to be in the field." A small laugh tinkles like silver bells on a delicate necklace. Her own long tail clamped tightly to her hind end as the mare had no intentions of baring young this season and would happily oblige a stallion in a quarrel if he should decide he wanted what she did not want to give up.
Ygritte moved about the field frequently, haunting it and constantly searching for new recruits like that of a child and a long lost doll. Each time she returned, it humbled her, reminding her of what it was once like to be lost. The time of year was an absolute burden as the field was hot with bodies and the scent of estrus hung thickly like a perfumed cloud but the coral pointed frame moves effortlessly among the throng of horses, glancing from time to time as she allowed her senses to seek out another.
On this particular day, amber pools find that of a striped mare having herself a drink from the shallow creek bed. Even as time had molded her, recruiting never got much easier for Ygritte. She preferred to shy away and keep to herself especially after the time passing since Mandan had left. There had been an emptiness in her heart and mind. It was a black hole that consumed her for so long till the void sealed itself and she managed to function again but the scar tissue was hard and thick. So with a bit of a tangled smile, she approaches the hybrid woman before dropping her own skull to sip at the liquid. Lobes flicker to and fro as she is cautious of any overzealous stallions that might mistaken a pair of drinking mares as an easy target.
The flower crowned bay lifts her delicate skull, the corners of her lips drawn up as cocoa pools swim with curiosity. "Hope I'm not interrupting you, or if you mind company. I'm Ygritte." Tones are low but solid like a revolver wrapped in burgundy velvet. Sensual, intriguing and could very well get it's point across with very little effort. "I imagine I know the answer but what brings you to the field?" Yes, it was silly but the mare knows there is a procedure all horses seem to follow when they are in the field.
Like an age old script. The pages worn soft with wear.
Attention is upon the exotic mare, pinnacles flickering at times at the sounds surrounding them. When it seemed as if a stallion was staring too long or edging too close, the bay would instantly snap her neck to bare down upon the silly stag, lobes sewn tightly against her skull and eyes reflecting death before they moved along to a more "receptive" lady. "Sorry, but I'm sure you see tis is not the best season to be in the field." A small laugh tinkles like silver bells on a delicate necklace. Her own long tail clamped tightly to her hind end as the mare had no intentions of baring young this season and would happily oblige a stallion in a quarrel if he should decide he wanted what she did not want to give up.
Ygritte.