The mare was unsurprised that her antics were well-met, if not equally so, by the strange and persistent stallion whose name she knew not. Even when he approached her shoulder, presumably desiring the kind of eye contact shared between friends or admirers, Essetia was careful to remain as blasé as one in her situation could be. However, his frankness and unwillingness to be deterred by her coy behaviors fascinated her and so she turned one pale eye toward him. He was indeed a wonderful specimen, a man painted in shades of the moon and the earth, but still just a man by all accounts. She studied his eyes as they met her own, a vibrant gold, and she smiled despite herself when he spoke. It appeared that Essetia herself was not the only creature capable of speaking and acting on her demands.

The rumbling of his laughter forced the spy to change pace in order to accommodate him, a gesture made out of politeness alone. He’d given her no reason yet to respect him or his intentions. “Is that so? What reason do you have to follow me then? Have I captivated you, young prince?” she questioned boldly, a slight smirk spoiling her façade.

She followed his gaze as it stretched out across the sea and she hummed slightly to the sound of the waves, clearly unperturbed by his company. Essetia had always been too unaffected, too severe in her judgements of others, to notice the sun amongst the clouds of grey. Perhaps it was time to enjoy another’s willingness to tolerate her. Or at least try.

When he spoke again, the spy titled her face toward him, her gaze finally landing wholly between the two horns that reached back toward his withers. She’d never seen anything like them on an equine of any sort and delighted in the way they curved away from his skull. However, she’d never been one to remark on appearances and simply let her fascination fall by the wayside. Besides, Essetia was distracted by the childish nature of the stallion and his need to prod her for conversation where she felt none was needed. But instead of avoiding the question, she nodded, thoughtful.

His name was Misael- an informant of the Dragon’s Throat. Was it any wonder that he resided here, given that they were in fact wandering along its shores? “It is good to know you then Misael. I’m Essetia and he is Romul,” she answered while gesturing toward the white wolf trailing just behind them. “To answer your question, I’ve come here to enjoy the sun and the waves… Is that not something that folks do these days? Surely it wouldn’t make for a good tale…” 

Essetia & Romul