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01-25-2017, 05:27 PM
I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF
You can tell a lot about a group - kingdom, herd, club - by its leaders; they either let their people get away with shit, or didn’t. They either commanded respect and earned loyalty, or were holding on to their positions purely by bribes or fear. Wessex wanted to know the atmosphere of the herd, whether she was walking into something hostile or not. Not that she expected Tiamat to dish about the gossip and reveal shortcomings to a complete stranger, but Wessex is better at reading body language and vocal patterns than she is at reacting with the appropriate emotion.
By Tiamat’s response, Wessex intuits that she was personally affected by the loss of their most recent leader. Which makes the horned mare think that the stallion must have been the decent sort, to evoke such a somber tone. There are those who are lead astray by charismatic rulers, but Tiamat doesn’t seem to be the brainwashed sort who spews propaganda and rote slogans. “I am sorry for your loss,” Wessex interjects at the appropriate time, knowing that it is the polite thing to say. What surprises her is that Tiamat seems to think she would have liked their late leader. What that says about herself (or him), she doesn’t know, but it is useful information, and she finds that she is rather curious about this Deimos character.
“Hotaru,” she repeats, and nods to indicate that she’s listening, before falling into an easy silence with the blue mare as they traverse the terrain. Wessex is more than happy to let her guide do the talking, if she so wishes, and is also equally content to observe and mark the way back. The air grows colder as they move towards the mountains, finally heading between the peaks - and then beneath a metal horse, which the soldier in her takes as a border mark. The heavier woman has always been partial to cooler areas, and this land is no different. At the joyful exclamation of That’s it! she follows the blue mare’s gaze down into a Valley, and smiles a little.
It is indeed beautiful, she thinks. “I can see why you love your home so much…” and then, in jest, “But dont you all get cold in the winter, sleeping on all that ice?”
By Tiamat’s response, Wessex intuits that she was personally affected by the loss of their most recent leader. Which makes the horned mare think that the stallion must have been the decent sort, to evoke such a somber tone. There are those who are lead astray by charismatic rulers, but Tiamat doesn’t seem to be the brainwashed sort who spews propaganda and rote slogans. “I am sorry for your loss,” Wessex interjects at the appropriate time, knowing that it is the polite thing to say. What surprises her is that Tiamat seems to think she would have liked their late leader. What that says about herself (or him), she doesn’t know, but it is useful information, and she finds that she is rather curious about this Deimos character.
“Hotaru,” she repeats, and nods to indicate that she’s listening, before falling into an easy silence with the blue mare as they traverse the terrain. Wessex is more than happy to let her guide do the talking, if she so wishes, and is also equally content to observe and mark the way back. The air grows colder as they move towards the mountains, finally heading between the peaks - and then beneath a metal horse, which the soldier in her takes as a border mark. The heavier woman has always been partial to cooler areas, and this land is no different. At the joyful exclamation of That’s it! she follows the blue mare’s gaze down into a Valley, and smiles a little.
It is indeed beautiful, she thinks. “I can see why you love your home so much…” and then, in jest, “But dont you all get cold in the winter, sleeping on all that ice?”
wessex
@Tiamat
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --
