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04-04-2015, 10:57 AM
Rhiannon chuckled at d'Artagnan's teasing refusal, a deep, throaty sound of genuine amusement. There were only a small handful of stallions that she could stand to be around in this cumbersome world, and d'Artagnan was one of them. A privilege, certainly. "Oh, but you should know me better than that, my dear Doctor," she practically purred in response, molten golden and icy silver eyes flicking to where the blood bay stood, lips still upturned in that casually rueful grin, "When do I ever listen to being told 'no'?" Very rarely, just in case neither of them knew... Especially now, as she neared three years of age. My, what would her father think if he saw her now...? Probably just go ape-shit crazy, like he did the last time we met. The thought was depressing, but Rhiannon did not let it affect her posture nor her facial expression. That was for another time. Much to her eternal joy, and relief for not being made the fool, Crash did seem to recognize her after a few moments of what looked to be intense contemplation. The painted brute's words caused her to nod, pleased that he remembered her. It had been a long, long time ago... So very long, Rhiannon herself was honestly surprised to recall Crash Course's face. It wasn't like they knew each other very well... But he had left an impression upon her, even if he carried man-bits between his legs. Cocking a hoof and tilting her head, the Weaver eyed Crash Course with a look akin to blistering judgement. He wished to return to the Basin, did he? Briefly she wondered just what had driven him from their frosty borders in the first place. Flicking a frosted tail, the brindled female entertained d'Artagnan's game and spoke, dual-toned eyes glinting dangerously and a Cheshire grin spreading upon dark, tainted lips. "Hm, well... He is quite shabby... Needs some more meat on his bones, I'm afraid, but I suppose he will do. And at least you aren't completely skin and bones like the last time we met, Crash, so you can be of use." With that, Rhiannon grew silent, gaze dancing between the blood bay Doctor and the brutish form of Crash Course as they went about formal introductions. She didn't mind either way if they brought the broad beast home with them, and so would leave the decision up to d'Artagnan. @[Crash Course] |
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