07-05-2016, 12:06 PM
She really should not harbor a dislike for this place - it brought her to the Jungle after all, and if she is grateful for anything in her life, it is for that and that alone (and the company of the Jungle’s own Queen whom Riva seems to have taken a shine to, which probably isn’t saying much… she doesn’t take a shine to anything really…). But here she is, standing tall and thin in her bay tovero dress, eyeballing the day’s denizens of the field in hopes that there might be something of worth to approach and extend an offer to. She doesn’t care one bit if she is successful in her attempts, for she is making an effort to recruit and that ought to be enough for now to sustain her place amongst them - the Amazons, those fierce sisters to whom she is now pledged, likely for life, too.
A giant of a mare catches her eye, painted too, but all girthy and all manner of brawn becomes her and Riva appraises her from a distance, deep in contemplation. Yes, she thinks, this mare might be a good addition, even if she proves to be more peaceful than her warrior shape belies. No matter, there is room for all in the Jungle (as long as they are female, she has smelled the musk of males but they seem to be Amazonian get or the few that are mated to some sister or another) and she knows this well - it took her in, after all. The paint decides to cut through the trees, and she doesn’t bother to quiet her step as she barrels through the bracken making as much noise as equinely possibly - Riva was never a quiet horse, unless she had need to be, but there was never a need to hush her step or mind the land around her.
“Just me,” she says as she pops into the clearing with a loud crack of branches snapping on the bushes at the point of her breast as she breaks through them with a lack of grace. “I’m Riva, and I come to offer you a home,” she says to the once-grazing mare who has flung her head up so warily, and the paint likes that the giant was aware of her surroundings and not at all foolish enough to graze along in a sweet little daydream, so unaware of the danger that lurked out there. Not that Riva was dangerous by any stretch of the imagination, she might be temporarily scary, but hardly more than that as she sizes up the giant up close and smiles, “I take it you are in need of a home, right?”
A giant of a mare catches her eye, painted too, but all girthy and all manner of brawn becomes her and Riva appraises her from a distance, deep in contemplation. Yes, she thinks, this mare might be a good addition, even if she proves to be more peaceful than her warrior shape belies. No matter, there is room for all in the Jungle (as long as they are female, she has smelled the musk of males but they seem to be Amazonian get or the few that are mated to some sister or another) and she knows this well - it took her in, after all. The paint decides to cut through the trees, and she doesn’t bother to quiet her step as she barrels through the bracken making as much noise as equinely possibly - Riva was never a quiet horse, unless she had need to be, but there was never a need to hush her step or mind the land around her.
“Just me,” she says as she pops into the clearing with a loud crack of branches snapping on the bushes at the point of her breast as she breaks through them with a lack of grace. “I’m Riva, and I come to offer you a home,” she says to the once-grazing mare who has flung her head up so warily, and the paint likes that the giant was aware of her surroundings and not at all foolish enough to graze along in a sweet little daydream, so unaware of the danger that lurked out there. Not that Riva was dangerous by any stretch of the imagination, she might be temporarily scary, but hardly more than that as she sizes up the giant up close and smiles, “I take it you are in need of a home, right?”