08-24-2016, 01:23 AM
i don't love you;
but i always will.
She appears, just one and most definitely not the one he was expecting. Riva is of middling height but her build is lank and lacking, and altogether too severe to be considered beautiful but her eyes burn brightest of all, almost as if with fever or possession (maybe the latter is accurate to an extent, her revenge possess her, as does her flirtation with the Amazonian life). Nonetheless, she is the one that heeds the odd illumination in their midst.
If for nothing else, it will satisfy her curiosity.
Considering that it was no moon that made that light, nor star.
That means it is magic of a sort, and her interactions with such have been heavily limited.
(Okay, almost nonexistent for all that she is the blight on the grand old Tundra-Dale mingled bloodline of Errant and Lea.)
The macaws and monkeys are a good alarm system for the Amazons, and right now they are raising such a ruckus that Riva cannot even think straight! Damn crazy Jungle critters! She snorts, in the midst of her foraging forth after the eerie beacon in the middle of the day that dims only so much the instant the sun ducks behind a cloud, and that seems entirely too odd to her but she still pursues the source of it, despite the heeby-jeeby sensation cartwheeling down her spine. Then a call rings forth, loud and all stallion in its announcement; she is not entirely surprised, they’ve received an influx of visitors as of late.
None like this though! He is a sight to behold in all his angelic glory, and she has to blink a few times at the sheer beauty of him. No stallion should look like this, at least no living stallion to walk this earth but here he is, and Riva drinks in the sight of him. She isn’t crushing on him, but lord almighty he is angelic! Riva doesn’t believe in angels though, but he’s real enough - she can smell the musk of him, and he reeks of the Dale, and she almost snorts again at that particular scent he’s so thickly robed in. Instead, she guesses him to be an envoy and is therefore, on her best behavior until the Queen can arrive.
“Can I help you?” is all that she asks him.
If for nothing else, it will satisfy her curiosity.
Considering that it was no moon that made that light, nor star.
That means it is magic of a sort, and her interactions with such have been heavily limited.
(Okay, almost nonexistent for all that she is the blight on the grand old Tundra-Dale mingled bloodline of Errant and Lea.)
The macaws and monkeys are a good alarm system for the Amazons, and right now they are raising such a ruckus that Riva cannot even think straight! Damn crazy Jungle critters! She snorts, in the midst of her foraging forth after the eerie beacon in the middle of the day that dims only so much the instant the sun ducks behind a cloud, and that seems entirely too odd to her but she still pursues the source of it, despite the heeby-jeeby sensation cartwheeling down her spine. Then a call rings forth, loud and all stallion in its announcement; she is not entirely surprised, they’ve received an influx of visitors as of late.
None like this though! He is a sight to behold in all his angelic glory, and she has to blink a few times at the sheer beauty of him. No stallion should look like this, at least no living stallion to walk this earth but here he is, and Riva drinks in the sight of him. She isn’t crushing on him, but lord almighty he is angelic! Riva doesn’t believe in angels though, but he’s real enough - she can smell the musk of him, and he reeks of the Dale, and she almost snorts again at that particular scent he’s so thickly robed in. Instead, she guesses him to be an envoy and is therefore, on her best behavior until the Queen can arrive.
“Can I help you?” is all that she asks him.
Riva