08-12-2018, 12:30 PM
If the green one had even uttered some resemblance of her thoughts, naming Katarina entitled and..a princess? The dark woman would have nearly tore her throat out. Katarina is a proud mare who comes from blood older than those who seemed to roam the changed land. She is of a greater source than the paltry offerings that seem to drag along their bellies, paying tribute with thick tongues and rolling eyes. Her mother, Mordgeld, had raised her well with cunning a eye and sharp nose for bullshit. Her father, Adolf, had taught her to be strong, quiet, and to listen...but to not only the words but the mannerisms of each equine. Katarina draws a breath and slants her eyes to see the approach of a loudly colored creature. The dark woman is quiet as she roves over the other's green shape without so much as a hinder. She does not shy from confrontation. A feathered hoof is stretched slightly outward, her eight shifting from one lovely hip to the other, eyes watching carefully as she reads the other. "Not as of yet...and that is rather pathetic." The remark slips from between the soft lips, murmuring lowly as there is no infliction in her voice. The stories of old that her mother had spun were only legends now. The world was not raw and wild anymore. Beqanna had crawled away from the legends of men seeking their women with tooth and smiles. No longer did they flock to the field in hopes to catch a woman's eye any longer. Now the women are the ones who must fight. Bah. Katarina shakes away her stupidity with the soft wave of her carefully cut head. If that is how it is then that is how it will be. So help them all, Katarina is risen from the ashes to feed from the land of Beqanna, to carve her mark amongst the ancient.  |