[open] perhaps it was but a fever dream

[Famkee]

As oafish as the stallion might have seemed, Famkee neglected and perhaps underestimated the breeze offering him her scent, flowery and pleasant on the wind. She holds the breath that begs to be released like it's going to prevent the gusts from wafting his way, unsuccessfully she realizes. Was she bound to run into strangers this way? What she ran from seemed to chase her with gnashing teeth and quicker feet. Maybe it was time to quit running. Easier said than done she thinks, being solitary for an extensive amount of time took a toll on her soul, or was it her proceedings, she can't count the imminent monsters that haunt her thoughts. The power simple memories hold is frightening, something even Famkee can't escape. 

He eyes her horn, something not surprising upon first impressions, but something lingers inside his gaze that speaks of legend, not mere curiosity like most. Stories told for centuries about horned equines and their capabilities. She doesn't deny her worth or her past, but his gaze makes the mare wonder what experience he holds with the species, momentarily that is, she can't trap herself in what the stud could be thinking of her. Does she even care? "Widowmaker," His low voice slices the silence of the forest, for a moment she doubts if she actually spooked him watching his breathing as her eyes drift over the muscles of his chest, remaining even, calm enough. The one wing he does have splays open impressively, white feathers resemblant of a swan, or maybe some sort of fallen angel. Fitting. She doesn't mean any harm, after all if she was hunting the stallion, he'd be long since replenishing the forest floor with his flesh.

He continues with wiseacre remarks regarding her mistakes revealing her presence though her intrusive thoughts win, not without a fight of course. She listens despite the word vomit, debating even entertaining him. The unicorn is an observer, words were useless against the walls of action. "Will it grow back?" Her voice is soft as the leaf litter rustling against her hooves. Golden orbs wash over him unabashedly, making their home on the absent appendage, strange as it was she couldn't help her velvet lips from inquiring. She doesn't want to move, this spot she's revealed herself in stakes its claim, but not wanting to appear timid Famkee takes a few steps forward out from the cover of the thicket. The suns rays peek through the umbrella of the treeline, making the Aurelian gold of her horn seem like a mirage in it's glow, powerful bodice prepared for anything awry, yet the mare emits composure. If her brother taught her anything, it was not to show fear. Despite not knowing wether her lost twin even breathed the same air any longer, he's with her in spirit, a constant ghost floating over her shoulder in times like these. "I have my reasons to be careful." She says, ears threatening to pin to be lost in thick tendrils of ebony mane. To appear a threat was one thing, to be one was another. The latter suited the soldier, though the stallion has yet to prove his intelligence, especially making a deafening presence of himself, how the mare stumbled across him in the first place. "Do you?"  

if my heart is in your hands will i die

Famkee

@Buonarroti