... She probably looked dead.

Yeah. Yeah. Definitely. Definitely dead.

Rhiannon was nothing more than a sprawled out mound of frosted black and brindle flesh laying flat on her side, mane and tail a mess of tangled hairs about her curvy frame, hooves barely dipping beneath the shoreline of the crisp lake waters. Two-toned eyes were shut, uncaring if anyone happened upon her body and proclaimed her dead. She'd bite the legs of anyone who tried.

Jerks.

Heaving a breath, the brindled devil relished in the silence of her mind. For now, the demons were sleeping. Silent. So fucking silent. Maybe they were lulled into a long-overdue nap-time by the warm spring weather? Gods knew it was working for her...

The remainder of Frostfall had been brutal. While she had reveled in the meager snowfall, a little pissed that there wasn't more snow, everything else had weighed heavily upon her. With the prolonged darkness of the night and such short hours during the day, the demons in her mind had wrought havoc upon her sanity, pushing and pushing and pushing until she sought out a way to take out her aggression and turmoil. That... Had ended poorly for some unfortunate sods, but, just like her currently sprawled out and crumpled body, she didn't care.

Then Birdsong had come, all bird-chirps and sappy bullshit about 'new life' and all that, and the premature warmth had chased away the poor excuse of a winter, taking her snow with it.

The brindled beast gave a snort. "...Jerks."

Still, with the change of the seasons, Rhiannon had been surprised when her mind had grown more and more silent, as though soothed and sated by the temperate atmosphere. She wasn't bitching, hell no. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, or whatever. Why a horse would want to gift itself, she didn't know... Unless a dainty little thing was gifting itself to her. Oh, man. Now there was an idea she could get behind.

From where she lay, Rhiannon chuckled, eyes still shut against the rays of the afternoon sun. Oh yeah. That sounded like a really good idea.

So, the darkly mare continued to lay sprawled out like a dead thing, halfway dozing beneath the warm sun, and lost herself in the daydream that was being on the receiving end of a delectable, female present.

ooc: Open for anyone!