your soul is able, death is all you cradle
sleeping on the nails, there's nowhere left to fall
"Gossip." She tastes the name, rolling it over tongue and palate to taste the hidden notes. With lids falling over her glittering green eyes, she pauses, "pretty." Her eye snap open to look upon the smaller mare with a pleased expression. She does not sense a challenge or threat from the honey gold girl. "I do hope this rain lightens up." And as if by magic, it begins to taper off. Katarina is not magic mare. She can not weave spells nor manipulate and control. She is a presence, an essence. She commands by existence.
"Would you like to walk, Gossip? Perhaps there is a place I may grab a drink while we talk." A slick smirk slides over her dark mare-ish lips with green, green eyes peering from the tangle of her wet hair like a kelpie of yore. She does not wish to intimidate but after being absent for some time, she wishes to explore her last known home. "So tell me of yourself. Can you do any tricks? I know Beqanna had begun to bloom with magic when I last stood on this very soil." The older mare wants to see if the other had the ability to control or charm her, all the while the face remains soft with her easy smirk and half lidded eye.
Katarina hungers for something. She desires a disturbance of sorts but believes it is best to get her hooves wet in the proverbial pool to see what ins and out of the new Beqanna and perhaps young Gossip will be her guide. If anything, a little light conversation was in order to soothe her purring throat. It seemed as if Beqanna had slipped into a soft slumber and there was not better time for the velvet black mare to return like the slinking hell-cat she is.
katarina
you have admired what every man desires
everyone is king when there's no one left to pawn