Maren

A tigermare sat in her boat, a lone pirate on the calm seas, swaying along with the wakes of the waters in between the island and the mainland, when a scream, voiced by either distress or frustration, resounded over the waters. The contrast between the stillness and the echoing noise brought Maren back from her chain of thought. Alabaster ears and wings jumped sky-wards as they both began circling into different directions like sonars, searching for the sound's source. Her eyes blinked against the vague light reflecting on the ocean, while she awakened. Then her gaze rotated towards the shore. A silhouette. A figure, troubled by the bridge? Ghe... Intrigued by either his fear or frustration (somewhere she hoped fear), she decided that it was only her sacred duty as self-pronounced water-patrol to see what precisely this was about.

She would come to the rescue.

Getting out of her lazy, comfortable position, she began to push and pull on the oars and - along with some squeaking, the boat began to slide through the water. As it was just a short distance, she let go again to decrease their speed, and sat back as they sailed the last bit of distance along with the waves.

"Good morning..." she said, as she sat motionless like a pup on the surface of the wood. Her wings lay still in the wind as the vessel began to gently bump and slide against and over the shoreline, moving with the motion of the ocean. Her whole body shocked along with it, but she didn't seem to care - or notice - as her lips parted, ready to speak, and her eyes fixated on the stranger. So while the wood made its grinding noises against the sand, she silently analyzed the visitor. The figure was dark, bearing only a vividly red splash on his flank as contrast. Red, just like his horn. His beautiful blue eyes were surrounded by something that looked like the scratches left by claws - also red, but as they were such an unnatural bright color the mare thought it a false wound. Still, she was intrigued. For it was always fun to find these unique ones between the average... Although, now she thought of it, there were actually little of those prancing around here, that this was not really deserving to be called rare anymore. Point was: He was quit simple, but still a pretty boy.

He had been rampaging about the bridge, which she thought was funny. Still, the enjoyment did not reflect in her silent eyes. Instead, her brain was more fixated on fixing his problem. "Want to borrow my key?" she offered casually with the flatness of an unconcerned voice about giving away her suppose-to-be only measure to go and leave her home. She ended her sentence with a soft smile. No... Wait. Her lazy eyes suddenly jumped open as they seemed to be experiencing a moment of realization. "...No!" She decided for the stallion, without really meaning anything with it. Maren's eyes just squeezed themselves together as she pried into the stallions beautiful blues. The tigermare's body wiggled to sit up a bit more straight, sat more like a watch-dog now. But in a boat. "What is your business here?" She attempted a stern look, accompanied by an attempt on a strict voice. After all, the handsome was acting odd and frustrated enough to be not one of her kin. Then again, the Throatlings were a bit odd; their acting and their coloring. But in the middle of her sentence the vessel bumped into the sand again, and there was a shock. Still, she managed to somehow keep her furowed frown.


Speech

@[Sacre]