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08-05-2014, 04:03 PM
Midas take away the pain inflicted on me, the hunger you're letting me feed I hadn’t realized the stress my mysterious colead found herself dealing with on a day to day basis, and she’d obviously been dealing alone. The crimson mare answers, low and without noticeable hesitation; though, it can’t ever be an easy thing to admit weakness. Seele then pleads for my silence, as if I’d break code on our private palaver. I meet those blond eyes without misgiving (their color not unlike the liquid amber of my own), and with an understanding sensitivity that is so true to my very nature, “Aye, chase worry from heart. The secret is safe.” Dishonor was a thing far worse than death itself. In a moment of quiet, I glanced down the line of her curvy frame; absently drawing my gaze until it falls upon a single golden plume that is just barely visible between the gentle curve of hip bone and rump. “Ye still carries that feather…” Words spoken aloud, yet more of a soft musing that was given life beyond the recesses of my mind. Said plume had once been used as rough form of communication between myself and our alliance during an invasion to Dragon’s Throat. I’d noticed it before, but never thought to ask why she’d keep a silly trinket. Some horses favored collecting various objects of worth, others sought trophies. Often decorating their manes and tails with teeth, horns and feathers from their victims. A gruesome thing. Lips are still curved with gentle pitch, but my gaze is thoughtful when the pools draw to her again,“Why has ye carried it for this long?” It was of little importance, bore no magical properties that would obviously gain her advantage in anything other than flattering her banner with its color. Why bother with it? |
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