-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
His comment on Gryffen rouses a robust sort of laugh from the smaller mare.
My, how the white wraith inspired fear! Circinae slips past the mottled stallion at the brief nod of his head, saying only, “Oh, yes … he did mention stopping by here when he came to Hyaline some time ago.” With the quirk of a grin as she grinds Loessian silt beneath her colored hooves. How distant does he think her interests are, that she wouldn’t know her friends and wouldn’t keep her enemies closer? “A sly dog in sheep’s clothing, this one.” She muses, peering over her shoulder to catch the pointed stare Ivar sends.
“Ivar, I can hear when you speak, even though I choose not to respond in kind.” She chuckles softly, once he prompts her for the second time in way of titles. Still, there’s the allure of being near him to distract her from further irritation so she supplies him with an answer anyways. “My name is Circinae, though my friends call me Circy.”
She falls into silence. It’s a lesson, of sorts; when she feels ready to discuss her thoughts she will, but no sooner than she intends and no later than she wants. He lacks patience, persistence - maybe Ivar is simply used to being given what he wants? Her pale blue gaze flicks away from him and out into the expanse of pretty hills. Winter is eager to chill their bones, and Loess serves only to turn those wayward drifts of icy air into hollow wails that cause Circinae to shiver softly as they walk.
“Heda’s father was an interesting man.” She begins at last, “Important to me, perhaps more than she’ll ever be aware of.” The pied mare explains, briefly. “But he and his daughter left on terrible terms and now, they may never have the chance to reprimand what’s been torn.”
The curling steam of a local water source draws her attention; she pauses in a halt and tilts a vibrantly colored head to where the hotsprings wait. “Excuse my boldness but, I feel that Heda’s been lost ever since.” The little Keeper sighs, altering her course for the one paragon of safety she can cling to in this otherwise dry land. Without the water to cradle her, sometimes Circinae feels … trapped. “I came here hoping to find her and what’s more, hoping to find her willing to mend what may be a final thread to her past.”
Her steps tread over rocky inclines and down sloping valleys until, at last, the tips of her fine toes can rest beside a pebbled bank. This time she stops with purpose, neck craning to lift her attention back to Ivar and his comforting presence. “And yet I find you.”
Circinae
@[Ivar]