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07-14-2014, 03:41 PM
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A stab of irritation strikes when the mousy little mare turns away from you. Transparent, are we? She does not favor you, that much is clear. Her lack of subtlety irks you—perhaps she is shy, but has she no manners? But maybe you intimidate her. She wouldn’t be the first that your mere presence has rattled, you think smugly. Satisfied with this more favorable explanation, you decide to forgive her this breach of etiquette. Unsurprisingly, she does not answer your query either, only turns to Ghost and whispers her name in a voice so tiny that your cupped ivory ears have to strain to catch it: “Dsiox.” A pretty name for a rather plain mare, you muse, turning the title over in your mind. Now the question is how to get her to follow you—she certainly hasn’t given you much to work with, tight-lipped little thing that she is. You are mulling it over when she breaks the stillness in the clearing, raising a delicate charcoal muzzle and nudging it gently towards the jet-black mare beside you. You get the sense that it’s is going to happen all over again, with your thrall leaving you empty-handed and alone in the clearing—another Arvakl moment. Well, not if you can help it. Notions of bringing this mare back to the rotunda evaporate in the heat of your scorn. She won’t be leaving you if you leave first, will she? So at Ghost’s announcement that she will not tarry, you turn to go as well. “It’s been a pleasure,” you intone flatly, addressing them all before moving off. And with that, you disappear into the woods, leaving the field mouse to do what she will. @[Rei] |
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