07-22-2015, 09:28 AM
and when I breathed, my breath was lightning
Rhy was merely passing through the field, keeping an eye out for any mares that might be around, when the girl catches her eye. She’s off in the distance, barely in the field at all but rather one of the smaller forests that dot the edge of it. Rhy turns her attention to watch for a moment. She’s close enough to see the colored creature flying before the girl, and Rhy smiles slightly, watching the childish innocence and game.
Maybe not even childish innocence. Rhy was no child, but didn’t she spend her free time rolling in the dirt and underbrush with the younger cats of the jungle? Of course she did. Sometimes it was good to run, to play, to flex her claws (that are currently not visible, in her horse form).
She notices that the girl is coming toward her, and so she walks slowly in that direction, not planning to interrupt the game. But she wants to keep an eye on the girl, who is definitely young. Not necessarily too young to be in the field. It wasn’t impossible (though it was somewhat uncommon) for children to come here instead of the Den.
Eventually, Rhy is close enough to the girl to let out a nicker in greeting. There’s nothing intimidating about Rhy at the moment. She’s gold and white, delicate from her Arabian heritage. There’s no hint of the traits that lie beneath, and Rhy would never dream of using them to hurt anyone that didn’t pose a threat anyway. “Hello, I’m Rhy,” she says when the girl has come closer to her. “What are you up to?”
Maybe not even childish innocence. Rhy was no child, but didn’t she spend her free time rolling in the dirt and underbrush with the younger cats of the jungle? Of course she did. Sometimes it was good to run, to play, to flex her claws (that are currently not visible, in her horse form).
She notices that the girl is coming toward her, and so she walks slowly in that direction, not planning to interrupt the game. But she wants to keep an eye on the girl, who is definitely young. Not necessarily too young to be in the field. It wasn’t impossible (though it was somewhat uncommon) for children to come here instead of the Den.
Eventually, Rhy is close enough to the girl to let out a nicker in greeting. There’s nothing intimidating about Rhy at the moment. She’s gold and white, delicate from her Arabian heritage. There’s no hint of the traits that lie beneath, and Rhy would never dream of using them to hurt anyone that didn’t pose a threat anyway. “Hello, I’m Rhy,” she says when the girl has come closer to her. “What are you up to?”
rhy
the electric lioness of riagan and rayelle
