06-12-2017, 10:37 AM
Merida
from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken
The mare has been on edge lately. A prick of unease rattles her very core, keeping her from enjoying her daily wanderings and even keeping her from sleeping soundly. It had never occurred to her that living in Loess might give way to new leadership and rulers; now that it has, the black mare was far from pleased at the new structure she was now would have to take part in. Royalty and monarchies were never her cup of tea; she was fiercely independent and was certain her personality would not mesh well with the fabrication that came with overruling sovereigns. Even with Taiga at their backs, Merida could not help the feeling of disrupt and uncertainty that now overwhelms her. It made her irritable and bad-tempered, her adventurous spirit overcome by her sense of pride. Unsure how her new queen (the word was sour on her tongue, unfamiliar and bitter) would be proving herself worthy of such a designation, Merida decided that her once solitary and quiet lifestyle now no longer suits Loess in its present state. Word would travel quickly that Loess was now a sub-kingdom of Taiga, weak and vulnerable at its core for the time being. The idea of others slithering through the cracks into her home made her uneasy. Before, Loess was merely a small area that no one really cared for – but now, with the large fortress of Taiga looming over them, Merida was sure that there would be a target on their backs. They were no longer a forgotten and isolated land, they were allianced and small, new and young. If someone wished to wound Taiga, Loess would be the first place they would go.
She begins to venture out of her comfort zone, patrolling borders when she became restless. She longs for the security of her weeping willow, its long and green boughs shading and protecting her with its natural barricade. The black mare has found that when she tries to find rest within its depths, there is no relief – merely constant worry and a disquieting sense of foreboding. Unable to stomach the feelings any longer, she used her head to brush the branches out of her way and moves away from the willow, and out onto Loess’ boundaries.
It is good that she did, for not shortly after her arrival, a sharp call enters her ears. She lifts her head quickly, black nostrils flaring inquisitively as she searches for a scent or sight of the source. The warm breeze of summer lifts her fiery red tendrils from the dark of her neck and face, twirling them around her like flames. Particularly good at tracking, Merida finds the boy easily – his color is dark against the bright green of the hills that surround them, and though she thinks of him as ‘boy’, his height implies everything but. Her sparkling eyes, fierce and untrusting, do not waver as her stare bores into him, sizing up the stranger as she brings herself to him.
He is young and smells of the salty brine of the sea. Other scents linger on his skin, but they are lost with the saltwater that has long since dried. Her ears have flicked backwards pensively in her approach, a sharp snort leaving her onyx nostrils as she halts before him. He had been careful not to enter fully into Loess, but Merida’s newfound distrust and suspicion left her no room for error – she would not be kind, but to snub a complete stranger was hard for the sturdy black mare. “Why have you come? Respond truthfully – whether I run you out of Loess or not depends on your answer.” Her voice is laced with a slight lilt of a laugh, but the fervent stare of her burning eyes lets the young stallion know that she is not joking. Despite being small in stature, the muscular mare would not hesitate to mark the dark, shining coat of this tall stranger with her teeth or hooves.