White December

She had been honest with her. That was always a plus. She seemed very open to conversation and revealing more about herself, along with learning more about December. She didn't know how to feel about that. Her mind searched for something to say, to respond to her simple answer, but everything seemed not worth mentioning. She supposed the conversation had come to a grinding halt. Not that she minded, conversation seemed only to be well... time consuming and wasteful in her eyes. She didn't need to say anymore though, because soon another figure had approached, her copper bodice and flaxen tresses all too familiar to the mare.

She had seen her. At the waterfall the other day. The shiver in her spine returned at the remembrance of her voice, and though this mare had meant no harm, and had actually been quite kind, something inside December curled and knotted with concern. Her relaxed posture slowly stiffened, her head lifting to show her attentiveness to Drom, who greeted Africa with a strange title, and her by the name of friend. She didn't know how to respond to that either. She expected no one to see her as... friend, nor did she really think of anyone as a friend either. If she had to pick someone, it most likely would have been Rostislav.

Her mind flashed momentarily to the stud, his eyes looking into hers calmly, and his nonchalant air that he seemed to carry. He had fascinated her, simply because he was just as fine with her being quiet as she was with him being quiet. She hadn't had that kind of company before, and she almost felt it to be refreshing. Their conversation had been rather short, one that she still remembers vividly, and then she was off, and hadn't talked to him since. She didn't know how she felt about that either.

At Drom's request, December stiffly moved to the side, quietly nodding her skull to invite the mare in, knowing that Africa wouldn't turn someone away now, even if it meant the trio would be nearly snug, thanks to the ivory mare's massive build. With a swish of her tail she was against the wall, silent and watchful of the Storyteller. What made her accent so... off putting to her? It was familiar but unfamiliar, and very uncomfortable to hear from the chestnut's lips. She didn't mean to act in such a way to Drom, but she couldn't get over the questions in her mind about her voice. She knew she had heard that accent before, and whomever had it she hadn't liked at all.

At the mention of the cloak the Shire looked up, peering out and into the rain, where she finally took note of the fabric from before. As its green coloring darkened from the rain, any dirt that was once present now vanished thanks to the falling water. Why would anyone want to wear something? It sound uncomfortable and utterly useless, not to mention it didn't seem very attractive. Though December wasn't one to judge (out loud), so she simply kept quiet, letting Africa take the lead on this one, since she seemed much better with people than she.

"Speech"
Text
Thought

{WC: 535
Tag: @[Africa] @[Dröm]
OOC: December's former owners on a breeding farm were Swedes. They were abusive, but she doesn't remember them.}