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The soft hiss that seemingly issued from the unicorn's mane did not go unnoticed; Cal's eyes drifted upward and beheld a curious creature with hypnotic eyes of crimson. Cal blinked slowly, issuing a faint snort of her own in befuddlement. Strange critter, she thought in her mind, Ain't seen anything like it. Heard stories, though. So I've come to this place, have I? How interestin'. Interestin' indeed. Her gaze traveled down to the creature's young master, who had an eyes of fire and ice. Seems red is the fashion here, she thought wryly, and gave her own snort of amusement.
"No, you are in unclaimed lands, free for all Helovians...I am not affiliated with any one herd, however I can show you the way if you wish to join one."
Cal hummed in non-committed acknowledgment (Mmmhmm) and continued with her measured, ambling pace-- but this time, her slow gait gave the beckoning impression for the young mare to follow. "Ain't really lookin' for a herd to follow," she explained, snorting softly in the brisk wintry air, "Been, there, done that. I doubt anyone could use this bag o' bones anyway. But if you got some fancy place to show me, I ain't opposed to seein' some sights. Meetin' some folk." She looked back a the unicorn mare, gazing at that strange creature that loomed against her mane. I could do with an introduction to THAT typa squirrel, she thought, and again she gave a heavy grunt in suppressed laughter.
"Are you well? I know a healer. Perhaps she can help you from... drifting like you did."
Instead of keeping her personal joke to herself, Cal gave a hearty, throaty, neighing laugh. That faint cloud of worry and fear was so tangible Cal could almost taste it on her tongue-- she could see it in that youngun's eyes, and there was nothing so funny as that fear of age and gaining it that was so characteristic of youth. Some would say youth was wasted on the young, but Cal didn't believe in that sentiment. She didn't need youth anymore; that well was dried up and done with a while ago. If she were served with a heaping platter of clear eyes, full hair and shining hooves, she'd push it away and keep on munchin' that sweet clover.
"A healer?" she asked, the amusement plain on her tongue, "I ain't sick, girl. This ain't somethin' unnatural, I'll tell yeh what. Sure, I bet you do know a healer. I bet 'e might have a line ten miles long full o' old farts like me, waiting to feel a full decade younger with a full decade of energy." Cal shook her head, till chuckling underneath her frostbitten breath. "I'm passed that particular yearnin', child. I'm fat, strong, and healthy enough, and think I'm entitled to a few moments of bliss to myself every now and then. I don't pay it no mind." Cal was no fool. To mistake her for a decrepit relic was a mistake, especially if you were interested in taking advantage of the mare. She still had plenty of nodes and know-how to keep herself out of trouble, but it was true Cal's mind had begun to slip from time to time. Her worry regarding the matter was minor; if Cal were going to start daydreaming, she reckoned that she'd been through plenty to warrant it. No one deserved to be shackled to their own paranoia and disillusionment for the entirety of their lives.
"You wanted some stories? You might need a lesson or two instead."
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Weary Feet, Gotta Keep Truckin' It [Open]
