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They seemed to come in droves now. A younger, more frightful Liit would have found herself carefully dismissing herself, intimidated by the sheer size of the horses around her and the fact that they all wore some form of weaponry mounted upon their brows. This found Varath and the golden flecked mare as the least intimidating amongst the group, despite her ability to command attention and the air about her that was both regal, and powerful.
She almost felt like a sheep among wolves, so small and afraid in this new land. Though they were friendly enough, mostly ignoring her and conversing amongst themselves (a small blessing, she silently conceded to herself as another stallion joined their group), Liit would be certain to be polite and, if her reputation served her well, a quiet wallflower that did little more than watch from the sidelines.
First though, as Illynx introduces herself as the first newest addition to their little gathering, the pale mare turns towards her, thinking to thank her for the welcome before the General speaks up, now plunging Liit into what seemed to be a hushed or restrained political conversation consisting of thoughts and opinions that needed to be ironed out by word of mouth. She starts to feel a sort of curiosity bubbling up from her gut, and returns her gaze to Ulrik. “Why do you say that?” Perhaps she was prodding a little too much, what with Torleik’s announcement that he was the sort of hand to whip the soldiers of the Basin into fighting shape.
It was curiosity and the need to drink in more knowledge of this place that had goaded her into questioning the stallion with the golden tattoos. While Torleik had brought with him an air of disdain that seemed to bleed through the air and permeate the group, Liit could think of nothing more but to question why one of the higher ranked beasts of the Basin seemed to think so lowly of his herd and home.
