Everything seems brighter here: the white is more reflective, the leafless, skeletal bones of bare trees contrast against the gray, dreary sky. Red cardinals that flit between the boughs of dark green fir trees easily catch her attention, and though the group of women they’ve joined seem to all be somewhere on the black to white spectrum, the colors of their eyes stand out. Lagertha’s eyes are darker than her steel-gray coat, and while they hold kindness and joy at times, they are more direct and calculating than anything else. She finds that these eyes, while they have something that looks like worry, also light up with positive emotions, and oh – how they sparkle when they do.
This conversation, however is not for her. She knew it when her mother failed to introduce her to the others. Wessex doesn’t take it personally – Lagertha has always been the ‘business first’ type, and she’d long ago learned to simply listen and do, rather than question. Questions got her scars (and she had plenty of those already – too many for a girl her age). Hesitation meant pain. Dropping one’s guard was fatal. And that’s exactly what these ladies were doing. Wessex scowls, and pivots to face away from the group, half-annoyed because she didn’t truly understand what was going on, and half on-edge because this land, even if it is her mother’s beloved Beqanna, could be full of dangers.
But Wessex isn’t afraid. She’s built of iron and ice and can outrun the Razor-Pigs and the Spotted Dogs and isn’t afraid of the Huge Lizards with Sharp Teeth. There are things that go bump in the night that like to try and sneak up on sleeping horses, and well… so far she hasn’t seen any of those HellBeasts here. The black yearling takes a few steps away from the group of Sisters and scans the area intently. Her ears swivel towards every rustling sound, and her blue eyes dark towards every flicker of movement. Nothing. Yet. Wessex takes another couple of steps towards the unknown and roots her feet to the ground, tucking her black-to-silver wings in against her sides. The air is starting to get a little too chilly for her liking.
[ @[Arete] idk what this is]
This conversation, however is not for her. She knew it when her mother failed to introduce her to the others. Wessex doesn’t take it personally – Lagertha has always been the ‘business first’ type, and she’d long ago learned to simply listen and do, rather than question. Questions got her scars (and she had plenty of those already – too many for a girl her age). Hesitation meant pain. Dropping one’s guard was fatal. And that’s exactly what these ladies were doing. Wessex scowls, and pivots to face away from the group, half-annoyed because she didn’t truly understand what was going on, and half on-edge because this land, even if it is her mother’s beloved Beqanna, could be full of dangers.
But Wessex isn’t afraid. She’s built of iron and ice and can outrun the Razor-Pigs and the Spotted Dogs and isn’t afraid of the Huge Lizards with Sharp Teeth. There are things that go bump in the night that like to try and sneak up on sleeping horses, and well… so far she hasn’t seen any of those HellBeasts here. The black yearling takes a few steps away from the group of Sisters and scans the area intently. Her ears swivel towards every rustling sound, and her blue eyes dark towards every flicker of movement. Nothing. Yet. Wessex takes another couple of steps towards the unknown and roots her feet to the ground, tucking her black-to-silver wings in against her sides. The air is starting to get a little too chilly for her liking.
[ @[Arete] idk what this is]