03-26-2020, 08:41 PM
L E P I S
i hear the voice of rage and ruin
Though the spring afternoon had not been dull, it is certainly enlivened by the arrival of a talkative young foal, whose barrage of questions is as bright as his coloring. The dun mare’s grey eyes remain on the boy who has introduced himself as Mikael, but her ears tell her of the impending arrival of his mother, as does the scent of the approaching roan. The mother cuts off her foal’s chattering with a sharp whistle, and he returns to her side in time just as she comes near enough to speak to Lepis and her roan companion. There was a reason that Lepis had never brought a nursling child to the Field: she is not sure she could have gotten them as quiet as quickly as Tickaani had. Though she does surmise that the boy’s vivacious nature will not be dimmed for very long, especially given the good humor evident in his mother’s voice as she introduces herself before apologizing for his behavior.
“I think my leg’s still attached,” Lepis replies with an amused smile of her own, continuing the jest despite her own normal-length ears. “Better bold than too shy, anyway.” That is her belief at least, and the way that she has raised her own children. She does not mind the chatter, and hopes that Lomasi does not either. She looks back at the roan mare, whose head lowering in respect provides equilibrium to the hardness that appears in Tickaani’s at Lepis’ introduction.
“It’s good to meet you too, Lomasi. Tickaani. Mikael.” As she says each name, her storm blue eyes meet those of the horse, respectful and polite even with softly amused smile that has still not faded from her blue lips. Lomasi asks if she was easy to read, and the lines around Lepis eyes deepen as she shakes her head with a soft chuckle. “We are in the Field,” she tells Lomasi. “Horses here are either looking for a home or looking for someone to offer one to. I’m the latter.” There’s a brief pause as she looks back to Tickaani. “Which are you, Tickaani?”
@[Lomasi]
@[Tickaani]
“I think my leg’s still attached,” Lepis replies with an amused smile of her own, continuing the jest despite her own normal-length ears. “Better bold than too shy, anyway.” That is her belief at least, and the way that she has raised her own children. She does not mind the chatter, and hopes that Lomasi does not either. She looks back at the roan mare, whose head lowering in respect provides equilibrium to the hardness that appears in Tickaani’s at Lepis’ introduction.
“It’s good to meet you too, Lomasi. Tickaani. Mikael.” As she says each name, her storm blue eyes meet those of the horse, respectful and polite even with softly amused smile that has still not faded from her blue lips. Lomasi asks if she was easy to read, and the lines around Lepis eyes deepen as she shakes her head with a soft chuckle. “We are in the Field,” she tells Lomasi. “Horses here are either looking for a home or looking for someone to offer one to. I’m the latter.” There’s a brief pause as she looks back to Tickaani. “Which are you, Tickaani?”
@[Lomasi]
@[Tickaani]
