| RAISE WHAT’S LEFT OF THE FLAG FOR ME When Wessex told Rikyn that she didn’t believe in holding grudges, she spoke the truth. There was no reason to lie. So when the gold-accented stallion comes back to her a week later with quips about shoving her pointy bits into some of his more delicate regions, she has to chuckle - for such is fate. Fate often likes to laugh about their preconceived notions of what will happen and what should happen. Personally, Wessex thought Rikyn might avoid her for a bit (though she hadn’t said anything particularly mean ) and then the next time they saw each other, there would be a moment or two of awkwardness before is passes and they’re throwing sarcasm at each other. However, Wessex is stoically good-natured and firmly believes in second chances. This is his second chance - freely given.
She turns from whatever she’s doing to the edge of the cave, coming to the rim with a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eye. Glancing about, she privately concedes that it is indeed a beautiful day outside and she better fucking enjoy it before the weather turns cool and gray again. Rikyn’s voice precedes her view of the stallion, but now she can see him clearly, along with his companion, and with a shake of her head to clear both cobwebs and kinks from her neck, she moves to meet them.
The northern sun is warm upon her back, the light even and high overhead, and the land free of debris. She does keep a tidy yard – military cleanliness is hard to leave behind, you know. Thus, their impending battleground seems to be naturally chosen for them, and even as the Corporal surveys their surroundings, she banters easily with her soon-to-be opponent. “Aye, and I’ve got a hell of a lot more horns than you do, so you better literally watch your ass “ A short snort escapes, as Wessex finds herself funny. Oh girl, that’s a good one. Horns and head dip in greeting to Duir, before both her eyes and attention flit back to Rikyn, filled with both curiousity and mild amusement. “Did you have something in particular in mind?” Daisy –chain braiding? Whoring? Cloud-gazing?
W E S S E X |
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