wolves in our own skin, we're savages.
If he was steel, then she was a wildfire (or the shy beginnings of one). He is the discipline of a soldier personified, and she is naked, clothed in dirt.
She serves herself quietly, and without the airs and graces that mark so many of the horses of Beqanna. She knows nothing of achievements, or glory, or fame. She is a watcher but mostly a wanderer, with only the vaguest of ties to the territories. Her adopted mama and her sister, stay mostly at home while she explores. She is looking for knowledge, much like the boy, but its not knowledge to benefit a place, but to benefit herself.
The morning is foggy but it is not unwelcome to the young dark filly. She takes a moment to admire it, and the faint outlines of horses moving through it. It's a beautiful sight and she could easily watch it for hours; she has no place to be.
That's when the voices begin rattling around in her head. If she wasn't so unflappable, she would think she was going mad. At the most, she's slightly concerned. But the voices do not bother her, really, they're quite pleasant and soothing. They say things like 'wonderful breeze' and 'look at how our sun is trying to break through the clouds'. They might as well be her own thoughts, as they sidle into her mind to nestle beside her thinkings.
They say things that don't make much sense too, about her father and people she has never known and probably will never know. She doesn't believe them, but they persist, and eventually they settle on telling her something she could never possibly know - the name and home of a stranger standing on the hill, gazing out at the assembled equines as if picking his most perfect prey.
It's a test, to prove that they are not voices of her own construction, that she is not crazy. She does not hesitate to approach the boy, so stoic and tall. He is imposing, but Dá thinks this is an admirable trait rather than something to worry about.
"You," she says, almost accusatorily. "You are Erebor, and you are from the Chamber." She falls silent, her brown eyes watching him with steady, patient calm. The voices whisper 'yes, yes', but other than that, it is mostly quiet.
DÁ
She serves herself quietly, and without the airs and graces that mark so many of the horses of Beqanna. She knows nothing of achievements, or glory, or fame. She is a watcher but mostly a wanderer, with only the vaguest of ties to the territories. Her adopted mama and her sister, stay mostly at home while she explores. She is looking for knowledge, much like the boy, but its not knowledge to benefit a place, but to benefit herself.
The morning is foggy but it is not unwelcome to the young dark filly. She takes a moment to admire it, and the faint outlines of horses moving through it. It's a beautiful sight and she could easily watch it for hours; she has no place to be.
That's when the voices begin rattling around in her head. If she wasn't so unflappable, she would think she was going mad. At the most, she's slightly concerned. But the voices do not bother her, really, they're quite pleasant and soothing. They say things like 'wonderful breeze' and 'look at how our sun is trying to break through the clouds'. They might as well be her own thoughts, as they sidle into her mind to nestle beside her thinkings.
They say things that don't make much sense too, about her father and people she has never known and probably will never know. She doesn't believe them, but they persist, and eventually they settle on telling her something she could never possibly know - the name and home of a stranger standing on the hill, gazing out at the assembled equines as if picking his most perfect prey.
It's a test, to prove that they are not voices of her own construction, that she is not crazy. She does not hesitate to approach the boy, so stoic and tall. He is imposing, but Dá thinks this is an admirable trait rather than something to worry about.
"You," she says, almost accusatorily. "You are Erebor, and you are from the Chamber." She falls silent, her brown eyes watching him with steady, patient calm. The voices whisper 'yes, yes', but other than that, it is mostly quiet.
sorry this is poop