I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
She cannot deny his beauty. As his eyes meander across the criss-crossing paths of her sinewy muscle and weather-worn fur, she allows herself the same right. Without lowering her head, the woman takes in the gleam of his unnatural scales, and the form to which they are moulded to - the muscles and the height, towering and swallowing in nature. Through her nostrils she smells the distinct and remedial saltiness of the sea, and another thread of intrigue winds its way through the unkempt one's mind. Another possibility.
Before his reply comes, Trissy is stepping closer to him. Not rudely so, and not even close to intimately - but with her tangled locks and flinty eyes and that scent of a 'notherworld, it is grave. A spike of discomfort in their already complicated meeting - another shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins, another deep inhalation of his familiar and intoxicating scent.
Intoxicating, though only if she dared to take a sip.
Her answer follows without any hesitation, without barely enough time for what he said to have been process. "Will you be taking me?" The low tones of her voice are challenging, pushing, testing. The hard-set line of her lips forms immediately after the confounding words are issued. Another mare, a flimsy, girlish one, might have smiled and blushed after such a statement. But writ clearly upon her face is stoicism and gravity - and the lack of humor to the uncultured woman is tangible. There was no time for laughter in the peak of the mountainland.
He introduces himself then, after his eyes have slid across her with a glint of ownership and hunger. She doesn't flinch, neither at his words nor his invasive gaze. "Trissy," she says simply. "Where I am from is no longer."
And although she has not heard of the destruction of her Beqanna, she feels it, and she sees it, and above all, she smells it. Her Valley home is gone; her rightful kingdom, the throne she was born to, abolished and destroyed. The knowledge does not spark mourning within her, but instead leaves her with an ever growing hungry to discover what now lies where once she stood - for that was decades ago, but in the Beyond, the sun set more slowly. The moon rose with care and thought. Here - here, it was faster, more dangerous, more exciting.
She stands there, closer than she ought to be, farther than she knows he wants. She stands, holds his gaze, the challenge still standing: will you be taking me?
Before his reply comes, Trissy is stepping closer to him. Not rudely so, and not even close to intimately - but with her tangled locks and flinty eyes and that scent of a 'notherworld, it is grave. A spike of discomfort in their already complicated meeting - another shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins, another deep inhalation of his familiar and intoxicating scent.
Intoxicating, though only if she dared to take a sip.
Her answer follows without any hesitation, without barely enough time for what he said to have been process. "Will you be taking me?" The low tones of her voice are challenging, pushing, testing. The hard-set line of her lips forms immediately after the confounding words are issued. Another mare, a flimsy, girlish one, might have smiled and blushed after such a statement. But writ clearly upon her face is stoicism and gravity - and the lack of humor to the uncultured woman is tangible. There was no time for laughter in the peak of the mountainland.
He introduces himself then, after his eyes have slid across her with a glint of ownership and hunger. She doesn't flinch, neither at his words nor his invasive gaze. "Trissy," she says simply. "Where I am from is no longer."
And although she has not heard of the destruction of her Beqanna, she feels it, and she sees it, and above all, she smells it. Her Valley home is gone; her rightful kingdom, the throne she was born to, abolished and destroyed. The knowledge does not spark mourning within her, but instead leaves her with an ever growing hungry to discover what now lies where once she stood - for that was decades ago, but in the Beyond, the sun set more slowly. The moon rose with care and thought. Here - here, it was faster, more dangerous, more exciting.
She stands there, closer than she ought to be, farther than she knows he wants. She stands, holds his gaze, the challenge still standing: will you be taking me?
Trissy