07-06-2016, 10:04 AM
Riva nods; she is pleased that the black tobiano finds the Jungle beautiful as much as she does. That to her, is a promising start for the both of them. Fayella says it is perfect and Riva could not agree more; it really is perfect in so many ways from the moist loam underfoot to the rays of the sun that dance along their painted backs. She had to admit, she really did love it here. The Jungle had grown on her the way moss grows on the backside of a rock and she figured she would never lose that sense of home that had started to worm its way deep into her blood and bones. It did however, raise caution because of how precious the idea of home was to Riva - she never had one, could not bear to lose this one now that she’s found it, and she cannot help the fierce snort that comes from her nor does she explain it, some things were just better left unsaid and she hadn’t even told Lagertha the whole sordid tale of her origins and how it had shaped her into the bitter thing she usually was, except when around Fayella who seemed to soften all of Riva’s sharp edges including her tongue.
“She is alive,” she says, as it was her belief that the Jungle was an entity unto itself, definitely living and breathing in the same ways that they were living and breathing. Riva laughs and nudges her newfound companion lightly, “Nah, you don’t sound crazy. I think we all sound a little like you the first time we encounter Her.” The paint respects the Jungle, accords her a personage that might not otherwise be accorded to a kingdom but the Jungle has certainly always looked after her own from what all the stories say, so it is hard not to think of it in terms of a deity deserving of their utmost respect and care. Deity of course, is not the proper term for it if Riva thinks long and hard. The Jungle was more like a mother, a sister, or whatever female entity she was needed to be for each of them. That sounded better in Riva’s head, honestly.
“No need to thank me,” she says but adds in a more thoughtful murmured tone, “You’re welcome.” She doesn’t think she has ever had someone express gratitude to her in her entire life. Fayella just keeps surprising her and making her discover parts of Riva that she had thought long dead and burnt up in the midst of all her hot brash hate. She also doesn’t want to admit that it is kind of nice not to be so consumed by her passions all the time, to let go and just be… herself, whoever that is. The paint cocks a hip and leans more peaceably towards her comrade. “To be honest, I haven’t met any of the other sisters yet. That’s what we refer to ourselves as - sisters, no matter if we share blood or not, we share the Jungle.” She will reveal more and more about expectations and life here but for now, it is nice not to explain everything all at once and overwhelm her friend. Besides, Fayella is smart and asks questions about what she wants to know.
“She is alive,” she says, as it was her belief that the Jungle was an entity unto itself, definitely living and breathing in the same ways that they were living and breathing. Riva laughs and nudges her newfound companion lightly, “Nah, you don’t sound crazy. I think we all sound a little like you the first time we encounter Her.” The paint respects the Jungle, accords her a personage that might not otherwise be accorded to a kingdom but the Jungle has certainly always looked after her own from what all the stories say, so it is hard not to think of it in terms of a deity deserving of their utmost respect and care. Deity of course, is not the proper term for it if Riva thinks long and hard. The Jungle was more like a mother, a sister, or whatever female entity she was needed to be for each of them. That sounded better in Riva’s head, honestly.
“No need to thank me,” she says but adds in a more thoughtful murmured tone, “You’re welcome.” She doesn’t think she has ever had someone express gratitude to her in her entire life. Fayella just keeps surprising her and making her discover parts of Riva that she had thought long dead and burnt up in the midst of all her hot brash hate. She also doesn’t want to admit that it is kind of nice not to be so consumed by her passions all the time, to let go and just be… herself, whoever that is. The paint cocks a hip and leans more peaceably towards her comrade. “To be honest, I haven’t met any of the other sisters yet. That’s what we refer to ourselves as - sisters, no matter if we share blood or not, we share the Jungle.” She will reveal more and more about expectations and life here but for now, it is nice not to explain everything all at once and overwhelm her friend. Besides, Fayella is smart and asks questions about what she wants to know.