05-05-2016, 01:27 PM
A kiss is not a contract
A temptress greets her. Through the bracken comes another mare, black as night with a curious star and her tail dipped in snow. She’s well-made: slender appendages and a slightly dished face, a regular beauty in Beqanna. Well, it seemed that Phaedrus did have good taste. Besra notices the sweat along her sides, her inability to gather her breath, and assumes that she’s been out enjoying the brisk-turned-balmy day. She doesn’t seem so against the idea of company, so the blue roan girl smiles at her chipper “Hello”. “I’m so glad to see another face around here.” Besra tells her, easing forward around the lip of the pond so that the two can come closer together. “I was beginning to think Phaedrus had lied about the other mares.” She chuckles.
Of course, she knew Phaedrus to be a bitterly honest sort of fellow, but it’s funny to imagine him trying to cover an empty herdland with tales of a large harem. “Zara, nice to finally meet you.” She chirps, “I’m Besra.” Her baby blue tail flicks across her hind, dispelling curious insects that hover too close. Zara assumes the look of perfect willingness, eyes turned to Besra’s own blue ones with a happy sort of emotion. The old gates girl understands. It’s hard to be friends when you love the same stallion. But Besra wasn’t in love with Phaedrus, she wasn’t twisted up in his every action and she wasn’t with his foal now. He hadn’t saved her, he’d offered her companionship and a home - that’s why she had come here. Not for the doting affections of an overzealous male.
Not that he was overzealous, but Phaedrus probably had a history more intertwined with his other mares than Besra had with him. So she offers a warm grin, hoping that Zara will come to know her as simply Besra, a true friend. Not Besra, Phaedrus’ other mare.“Do you run often?” She asks her dark sister, head tilting gently so that her forelock dislodges from its place over her eye. She’s yet to experience every corner of the Golden Plains, though she’s seen it from above. Perhaps Zara knew of some places she’d not yet been?
Of course, she knew Phaedrus to be a bitterly honest sort of fellow, but it’s funny to imagine him trying to cover an empty herdland with tales of a large harem. “Zara, nice to finally meet you.” She chirps, “I’m Besra.” Her baby blue tail flicks across her hind, dispelling curious insects that hover too close. Zara assumes the look of perfect willingness, eyes turned to Besra’s own blue ones with a happy sort of emotion. The old gates girl understands. It’s hard to be friends when you love the same stallion. But Besra wasn’t in love with Phaedrus, she wasn’t twisted up in his every action and she wasn’t with his foal now. He hadn’t saved her, he’d offered her companionship and a home - that’s why she had come here. Not for the doting affections of an overzealous male.
Not that he was overzealous, but Phaedrus probably had a history more intertwined with his other mares than Besra had with him. So she offers a warm grin, hoping that Zara will come to know her as simply Besra, a true friend. Not Besra, Phaedrus’ other mare.“Do you run often?” She asks her dark sister, head tilting gently so that her forelock dislodges from its place over her eye. She’s yet to experience every corner of the Golden Plains, though she’s seen it from above. Perhaps Zara knew of some places she’d not yet been?