[mature] All the Pretty Little Horses || Private

[Amarantha]

All the pretty little horses.

She only thinks of her time in the field briefly as she makes her way through the twisted trunks of the forest trees. She is looking for trouble and from the look in those beryl colored eyes, anyone could see that. Dark green tendrils whip madly at the autumn flies that still cling to the olive tones of her rump. The summer brought the witch to Beqanna, and the temper of the autumn weather damn near drove her away. 

She weaves her way through the fallen lumber and ancient pine trees that still stand tall in the dark woods. She continues on her journey until the faint sound of the rushing river sends jolly tingles down her wicked spine. Her step quickens and her neck raises to lengthen her posture, with her back straight she is the picture of murgese elegance. The perfect trap for one willing enough to fall for it. 

Rant comes to a full stop beneath the mighty oak, perched not far from the river's edge. It's leaves have yet to fall and her back is protected from the harsh glare of the fall sun. The woman leans into her hip and allows her ears to fall back lazily, but that fine posture remains. Amarantha takes special note of the scents around her. As always in Beqanna the scent of other equines ranges from very close to far off, you could never be alone here it seemed.

She is not hesitant when she cries out to each and every one of them. She only hoped one was a man, but who knew. She was down for anyone dammit. She needed to socialize, needed to make someone mad so she could be happy. At this point, she was willing to make one of those snot infested children cry if it so much as made her smile. And oh boy even the thought of it did. So when she hears the telltale sign of another approaching she calls out in a sing-song tone a strong,
"Hello~"

Amarantha

OOC: Call her names, hurt her, do what you please.    @[Klaudius]