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His mouth creasing back into a smile that sparkles in his pale, piercing blue eyes --she thinks of the silver minnows that glitter along the edges of the Hidden Falls' many crystal pools-- has her fighting to tame her own grin in involuntary response; the battle ends tied and her expression settles on something akin to shy, subdued delight. She openly studies his face as he considers her words, noting his broad cheeks, strong jaw, and the striking shades painted across the regal slant of his superior bone structure; sable-black bands across silvery fawn, their pairing most divine. The morbid side of her steals a moment to wonder at his horn, too; he could skewer someone with that thing. One well placed jab and it would be game over, especially backed by the force he undoubtedly possessed.
Naturally, she picks up on his lingering regard of her; not so much different than any other memorizing her features upon introduction, but the budding attraction she feels toward him turns her into an exposed nerve under his gaze. The smooth rumble in his deep voice makes her pulse quicken, but the next words settle very greatly upon her, sinking in heavy. She stills. Of all the damned things, she didn't expect him to actually be the first to greet her, but once the shock fades away she is overjoyed; a surge only minimally tainted by a slight intimidated. "I am honored to meet you, Your Majesty." Her head nods low again, innately graceful.
She quietly concedes to his request, forcing a small trot to her own steps to reach him; when she does, she keeps toward his flank. She catches his scent finally, finding it warm and pacifying, spiced and heady. Hanging back, with little instinct in her to lead, she watches his movements and body language with a raven's naked curiosity. She knew better than to bring herself to even keel with him, unless he invited it. Some rulers were congenial with others, treating them equally. Still, just as many demanded the utmost respect to station. Given his particular title, she prefers to stay cautious and attentive. And deferent enough to pay him his dues while clearly keeping her own herd, and her submission to it, her cor aut mors.
Of course she considers lying, exploring those consequences in her head and weighing their worth after he questions her. But, manipulating events for one's ideal version of the world need not always be filled with lies; not only was her moral compass still relatively intact, a poorly laid web of deceit could ensnare her far more easily than any of her enemies. "They didn't send me," she says bluntly, choosing not to treat it as a potential regret. "I took my own initiative. I don't have the authority to offer an alliance, sair, but tis no reason not to begin friendly talks. As intelligence, not only is it my job to find these opportunities, but I must create them, as well. What good am I if my wings are clipped, so to speak?" A smirk, self-depreciating in its humor, curls her lips for a moment. "I am confident, however, that they would be very pleased to hear of your desire to meet them. I can relay this, of course, Your Highness."
Oh but he was both beautiful and handsome, observant and sharp insofar as she could ascertain of him yet, his species to hers just exotic enough to tempt, older, obviously strong and wonderfully built, and --knowing no shame-- a king! Once, many nights ago, in the spring, when she had fallen ill with the Green Labyrinth Lung, she had met another stallion whose presence affected her so. Thoughts of him were not so perfectly recalled as normal, with the memory made under the fog of plague. And yet a feeling remembered flashes through her, vague, but compelling enough to give her pause.
Naturally, she picks up on his lingering regard of her; not so much different than any other memorizing her features upon introduction, but the budding attraction she feels toward him turns her into an exposed nerve under his gaze. The smooth rumble in his deep voice makes her pulse quicken, but the next words settle very greatly upon her, sinking in heavy. She stills. Of all the damned things, she didn't expect him to actually be the first to greet her, but once the shock fades away she is overjoyed; a surge only minimally tainted by a slight intimidated. "I am honored to meet you, Your Majesty." Her head nods low again, innately graceful.
She quietly concedes to his request, forcing a small trot to her own steps to reach him; when she does, she keeps toward his flank. She catches his scent finally, finding it warm and pacifying, spiced and heady. Hanging back, with little instinct in her to lead, she watches his movements and body language with a raven's naked curiosity. She knew better than to bring herself to even keel with him, unless he invited it. Some rulers were congenial with others, treating them equally. Still, just as many demanded the utmost respect to station. Given his particular title, she prefers to stay cautious and attentive. And deferent enough to pay him his dues while clearly keeping her own herd, and her submission to it, her cor aut mors.
Of course she considers lying, exploring those consequences in her head and weighing their worth after he questions her. But, manipulating events for one's ideal version of the world need not always be filled with lies; not only was her moral compass still relatively intact, a poorly laid web of deceit could ensnare her far more easily than any of her enemies. "They didn't send me," she says bluntly, choosing not to treat it as a potential regret. "I took my own initiative. I don't have the authority to offer an alliance, sair, but tis no reason not to begin friendly talks. As intelligence, not only is it my job to find these opportunities, but I must create them, as well. What good am I if my wings are clipped, so to speak?" A smirk, self-depreciating in its humor, curls her lips for a moment. "I am confident, however, that they would be very pleased to hear of your desire to meet them. I can relay this, of course, Your Highness."
Oh but he was both beautiful and handsome, observant and sharp insofar as she could ascertain of him yet, his species to hers just exotic enough to tempt, older, obviously strong and wonderfully built, and --knowing no shame-- a king! Once, many nights ago, in the spring, when she had fallen ill with the Green Labyrinth Lung, she had met another stallion whose presence affected her so. Thoughts of him were not so perfectly recalled as normal, with the memory made under the fog of plague. And yet a feeling remembered flashes through her, vague, but compelling enough to give her pause.
elizabeth: you're not telling us everything.
red: let me put your mind at ease; i'm never telling you everything.
--blacklist
force allowed
plotting prior to death/maiming please
![[Image: a0jmns.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/a0jmns.png)
line art by jennyleigh
red: let me put your mind at ease; i'm never telling you everything.
--blacklist
force allowed
plotting prior to death/maiming please
line art by jennyleigh
