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07-26-2016, 05:03 PM
Romani
Romani listened with rapt attention as Ranjiri spoke of her family, speaking tales of her mother and father and the life of her family. She explained how she had not known Midas, her sire, too well, going on to say how he was busy within the realm of the Dragon's Throat. Briefly Romani thought of Levi, but just as quickly as the thought came, it was gone, dismissed just as the stallion was from her life. First a warrior, was Midas, then a Sultan, only to transition as a leader of the Hidden Falls when the land had first been created, cultivated from the rubble of the Windtossed Foothills.
That was why she had come back here, leaving the Edge for the home that had been stolen from her so many years ago. Different in shape and name, it was still crafted from the soil that had been the Foothills, and so Romani had vowed to live and protect these lands just as she had its predecessor.
Ranjiri went on, her voice slowing, hesitating as she explained the fate that had befallen her father. Immediately the Haflinger's heart twisted painfully within her golden breast, breath hitching within her throat. She was no stranger from the touch of death.
"I'm sorry, dear," Romani murmured softly, soothingly, knowing that the aching loss of a loved one never went away. Time healed it, yes, but it would never, ever go away. Not completely.
Luckily it seemed that her inquiry as to what Ranjiri's profession entailed was able to snag the young winged mare from her troubled thoughts, and briefly Romani felt the pang of guilt that she had accidentally brought up such unpleasant memories.
Ranjiri was a Mason, one of their crafters, and Romani's head dipped forward in an understanding nod. The thick hairs of her forelock fell forward, covering her face, and with a practice jerk of her head she tossed the strands back into place to the side of her head and out of her eyes. The Haflinger offered the young winged mare at her side an almost motherly smile before speaking up, happy to offer any sort of suggestions as possible.
"I'm unfamiliar with the skills requited for crafting, nor am I familiar with the passionate ways of the Dragon's Throat, but if you ever need any assistance in your masonry work, I would be happy to help. I'm certain that Tristan, my son, would be thrilled to help out in any way necessary as well if I happen to be unavailable." She paused with a wistful expression before going on. "He's a curious lad, but he's young yet. Six months old as of the second day of Tallsun, but if you needed someone to do a few little things, I know that he would enjoy it."
Here, the Haflinger paused yet again, jerking her muzzle towards Ranjiri with a chortle of laughter. "Who knows? Perhaps it would keep him out of trouble and give you a bit of respite."
That was why she had come back here, leaving the Edge for the home that had been stolen from her so many years ago. Different in shape and name, it was still crafted from the soil that had been the Foothills, and so Romani had vowed to live and protect these lands just as she had its predecessor.
Ranjiri went on, her voice slowing, hesitating as she explained the fate that had befallen her father. Immediately the Haflinger's heart twisted painfully within her golden breast, breath hitching within her throat. She was no stranger from the touch of death.
"I'm sorry, dear," Romani murmured softly, soothingly, knowing that the aching loss of a loved one never went away. Time healed it, yes, but it would never, ever go away. Not completely.
Luckily it seemed that her inquiry as to what Ranjiri's profession entailed was able to snag the young winged mare from her troubled thoughts, and briefly Romani felt the pang of guilt that she had accidentally brought up such unpleasant memories.
Ranjiri was a Mason, one of their crafters, and Romani's head dipped forward in an understanding nod. The thick hairs of her forelock fell forward, covering her face, and with a practice jerk of her head she tossed the strands back into place to the side of her head and out of her eyes. The Haflinger offered the young winged mare at her side an almost motherly smile before speaking up, happy to offer any sort of suggestions as possible.
"I'm unfamiliar with the skills requited for crafting, nor am I familiar with the passionate ways of the Dragon's Throat, but if you ever need any assistance in your masonry work, I would be happy to help. I'm certain that Tristan, my son, would be thrilled to help out in any way necessary as well if I happen to be unavailable." She paused with a wistful expression before going on. "He's a curious lad, but he's young yet. Six months old as of the second day of Tallsun, but if you needed someone to do a few little things, I know that he would enjoy it."
Here, the Haflinger paused yet again, jerking her muzzle towards Ranjiri with a chortle of laughter. "Who knows? Perhaps it would keep him out of trouble and give you a bit of respite."
You Ain't Ever Gonna Change
You Got a Gypsy Soul to Blame
And You Were Born for Leavin'
