12-05-2017, 12:42 AM
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
She greets his flash of humour with a delicate nip to the base of his throat, meeting his affronted gaze with one of skepticism and drollness. The intricate ins and outs of socializing begin to return to the mare, the quickness of it exhilarating. Though she makes no response to his ludicrous question, the dull black doubts not for a second the roguishness of this stallion. Perhaps not in the ways of politics, but in other ways? It was preposterous to think of him as a gentleman, at least for long.
The earth underhoof gradually changes to sand, and the black snorts; though she had encountered the sea in her time Beyond, it had always been on cliffs and mountainous edges. The way the sand moves and ripples in response to her weight is both satisfying and disquieting, but she does not dwell on the sensation for long. In the Beyond, all was at leisure to change, as though the Gods had no control over their whims.
Ivar steps into the water confidently, his brown eyes glancing back towards her, inviting. She follows, not having to fake or pretend her own confidence; she splashes into the water, her little legs maintaining a steady pace through the warm shallows. Her eyes skim the surrounding ocean, appreciating the way the sunset reflects off of its gently rolling surface; where she came from, the seas were always angry and tortured - nothing at all like the serenity now surrounding them. She misses the chaos; but for now, the beauty is acceptable.
At his next words, Trissy perks her ears and throws a brow up in his direction. "You may have mentioned your kingship sooner, Ivar." She turns her attention ahead once more, speaking in her regular husk. "And your wife... Something tells me she won't be as happy meeting me, as I will be to meet her." At this, a tiny, almost internalized smile flickers across her face - how devilishly fun. It is not the drama of the meeting that holds allure for the little Arabian, but the discomfort and uprooting it will cause. Havoc? Yes, that's the word.
His refusal to speak further on the topic for the time being is no errant behaviour by Trissy's standards - the handsome stallion has definitely run into problems with this topic before. She had no doubts about that. Instead of pressing him further (as he is more than capable of elaborating should he feel the need to), Trissy continues in silence next him, ready for another response should it come.
In no time at all, they have reached the scentline. Ivar gazes back at the sunset, and after a pause to study the stallion's remarkable face, Trissy does the same. Pinks and yellows streak the very edges of the sky, and as he states that it is her turn, the last slivers of beauty fade. Night sets in.
"I was born to two Queens, of the Forsaken Valley." She begins, her voice low and lacking much passion. "I didn't spend long in the kingdom; one of my mothers died before I was born, and the one who birthed me was lost to grief." Her eyes, which have been scanning Ischia's border, turn slowly to meet his, to hold his, to gauge his reaction. "I was young when I wandered into the mountain range which fenced the back end of the kingdom. That was years ago. It was a desolate place, one that tenders only to the rugged, but which preserved me until I wished to come back." The darkness has sunk further on to them, cloaking the mare in all her feral regalia. "It suited me."
The night swallows.
The earth underhoof gradually changes to sand, and the black snorts; though she had encountered the sea in her time Beyond, it had always been on cliffs and mountainous edges. The way the sand moves and ripples in response to her weight is both satisfying and disquieting, but she does not dwell on the sensation for long. In the Beyond, all was at leisure to change, as though the Gods had no control over their whims.
Ivar steps into the water confidently, his brown eyes glancing back towards her, inviting. She follows, not having to fake or pretend her own confidence; she splashes into the water, her little legs maintaining a steady pace through the warm shallows. Her eyes skim the surrounding ocean, appreciating the way the sunset reflects off of its gently rolling surface; where she came from, the seas were always angry and tortured - nothing at all like the serenity now surrounding them. She misses the chaos; but for now, the beauty is acceptable.
At his next words, Trissy perks her ears and throws a brow up in his direction. "You may have mentioned your kingship sooner, Ivar." She turns her attention ahead once more, speaking in her regular husk. "And your wife... Something tells me she won't be as happy meeting me, as I will be to meet her." At this, a tiny, almost internalized smile flickers across her face - how devilishly fun. It is not the drama of the meeting that holds allure for the little Arabian, but the discomfort and uprooting it will cause. Havoc? Yes, that's the word.
His refusal to speak further on the topic for the time being is no errant behaviour by Trissy's standards - the handsome stallion has definitely run into problems with this topic before. She had no doubts about that. Instead of pressing him further (as he is more than capable of elaborating should he feel the need to), Trissy continues in silence next him, ready for another response should it come.
In no time at all, they have reached the scentline. Ivar gazes back at the sunset, and after a pause to study the stallion's remarkable face, Trissy does the same. Pinks and yellows streak the very edges of the sky, and as he states that it is her turn, the last slivers of beauty fade. Night sets in.
"I was born to two Queens, of the Forsaken Valley." She begins, her voice low and lacking much passion. "I didn't spend long in the kingdom; one of my mothers died before I was born, and the one who birthed me was lost to grief." Her eyes, which have been scanning Ischia's border, turn slowly to meet his, to hold his, to gauge his reaction. "I was young when I wandered into the mountain range which fenced the back end of the kingdom. That was years ago. It was a desolate place, one that tenders only to the rugged, but which preserved me until I wished to come back." The darkness has sunk further on to them, cloaking the mare in all her feral regalia. "It suited me."
The night swallows.
Trissy