The roan’s dark head jerked slightly higher as her ears snapped toward the sound of shifting foliage. Impaired as she was by the absence of one eye - firmly closed over an empty socket, bedecked with delicate scars that belied the violence of the act - she had a tendency to process her other senses with an urgency. She turned her right eye toward the sound first for a quick inspection before her body followed suit, completing a neat semi circle to face the new arrival.
There were enough striking details to the filly’s person that the fact of her youth was actually what Scheherazade processed last. Her gaze settled with concern on the large bird perched comfortably on the unicorn’s shoulders, a fleeting look of revulsion twisting her features before settling on something closer resembling skeptical acceptance. Birds, especially those so… well-equipped didn’t sit well with her. While she was glad the vulture had at least not taken flight, she found it’s round, bloodshot eyes unsettling enough that she carefully avoided them.
Sher’s curious gaze quickly had another occupation, namely that of the unnatural flames that crested along the unicorn’s back. Her head cocked slightly to the side, more bemused by this discovery than she had been by the vulture. The girl was introducing herself now, and Sher realized that she had been struck quite dumb by the encounter so far. The burn of her tired muscles reminded her of the undesired rise and crash of her emotions from moments prior, and in her mind she was watching the actions of a stranger. Frustration was turning circles inside her, but there was no time for reflection now, her attention fixed on the girl - Kiada - and what she had to say.
“He- hello.” Hearing Kiada speak, it finally sank in how young the girl was. Surely shy of her first year, although destined for greater height than Sceherazade if her current stature was any indication. Still, the young mare’s brow pulled together in concern, wondering if this filly was far from her home, knowing too well how the young can be exploited. Kiada seemed sure of herself however, a trait that Sher could admire, benignly envious of the child’s self-reliance at such an age. As she paused to consider her next words, a soft smile pulled at her eyes and lips and never quite left as she continued to speak. “I don’t know… I--” A pearly exhale left her as she puzzled over her answer. What did she want, really? And how could words encompass it? “I’m starting over, I guess. Can you help me with that?” Her words were not merely polite, but kind- an exception Kiada had won from her in the span of a few sentences.
Sher hadn’t met anyone in so long that she was all-too-easily distracted- too distracted, in fact, to notice the second arrival just beyond her blind spot until the hooffalls drew close. Her charcoal and ivory face jerked hard to the left, her body freezing in place. Control featured heavily in her sense of self-preservation, always somewhere between fight or flight. Something closer to watch and learn. Her eye blinked wide, watching the dark mare with baited breath before the mild words slipped out, pretty but not much else. Syrena, from the Hidden Falls. Are you okay?
“I’m fine.” The words sounded clipped, even to her own ears. Admittedly, she did probably look a mess: mane in disarray, the sheen of freezing sweat still visible. Her trembling had yet to subside because - damn it - it wasn’t getting any warmer. Not to mention she was about as jumpy as a hare, her heart beating in fits and starts. Inwardly, she cringed. So much for control. How many times can she disappoint and confuse herself in one day? “Thank you,” she offered with more gentility, after a pause that exposed her unease. She passed her gaze over the dark mare’s form, intrigued by its wet appearance in the heart of winter, but chalked it up to the peculiarities that this land seemed to offer up in spades. Fire or water, Scheherazade could appreciate magic’s bizarre attributes from a wary distance.
Adjusting her position so that she could see both women at once, Sher’s focus slid slowly from Syrene, looking at Kiada as she wrapped up her own belated introduction. “My name’s Scheherazade… but you can call me Sher.”
I am dedicated
To the same baffled heart I have always carried.
SCHEHERAZADE
The diamonds and mud of my mouth.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
