She moves closer to the riverbank, feeling too strangely spotlighted in the river. Ice clings to her legs and she savors the feeling, though it will melt in moments. Her movements bring a chill to the air, though to her it still feels terribly warm, and she is unaware of the effect it has on others.
She examines the stallion more closely, listening as he asks a question and gives his own answer before she can speak. She is grateful for this, because she isn’t quite sure how to answer, it is clear her life, her upbringing, is different than most.
(That said, she shares blood with most of the horses here, from half-siblings to the most distant of cousins. She’s Beqanna-bred, in the end.)
“I lived…somewhere else,” she begins. She does not tell him of the mountaintop, of her strange and solitary world there.
“I lived there for many years. But it grew old, after a while. And my parents are from here, so when I left, I think this world simply called to me.”
She glances down at her dripping legs. The ice has all melted, now.
“And then I was hot, hence the river.”
She smiles at this, though it’s not a particularly clever joke. There was never much humor on her mountain.
“What’s Hyaline like?” she asks, then. She doesn’t know the name, has not been here long enough to learn the names of kingdoms. She does not know that one of the lands it the ill-fated creation of her father, that it’s the harbinger of the plague – hell, she doesn’t even know of the plague itself. She knows shockingly little, Annapurna, she only knows that she likes the stranger’s smile and that she is still terribly, awfully hot.
tell me that girl is not a song of burning
no worries, it's a great post <3