Petra's ears perked up when her bright traveling companion spoke of the professions in the herd. As Kahlua listed the many available, the buckskin mare kept a running dialogue in her head: Philosopher: Perhaps. Protector: Goodness no, I could not kill anyone. Sneaks: Sounds too dangerous and deceitful. Crafter: at the mention of this profession, Petra remembered her keenly embarrassing childhood where she had attempted to learn crafting, but the attempts merely resulted in several misshapen and deformed objects. And many broken ones. The latter seemed to occur especially when she was around others' crafted things, something she maintained was always by accident. It had been quite the running joke amongst her herd: do not let Petra touch anything important.
Healing seemed to fit her best, although she was not particularly fond of the idea of hearing the cries of the sick and dying. It appeared though that this land had at least a tentative peace, and healers were not needed with any degree of frequency. She just had to hope that this state would continue.
When the stallion spoke again, there was something new in his manner and tone. His words had a bit of bite to them, and his sentences, once prolonged, were now truncated. This surprisingly stung. Her careful manners were certainly not meant to annoy and she did not want the first new herd member she met to find her anything less than pleasant. Petra gave the dark one a more thorough look and soaked up all the subtle cues that were emanating from him. It seemed as though he was trying to build a facade to mask his bitterness, although it was entirely unsuccessful from Petra's point of view now that she was paying better attention. The unicorn was more or less civil the majority of the time, but there were hints here and there of what lay underneath the thin veil of contrived pleasantry.
She was resolved nonetheless to maintain her decorous demeanor. Petra had been brought up to always comport herself in the most civilized fashion. You did not falter, whatever the provocation. Just as one would never allow a dent in one's armor, one would not countenance a chink in one's carefully maintained social veneer. In both instances, you left yourself vulnerable. Open to exploitation or attack. Wearing your heart so that the world may plainly see was a weakness, a liability. There would be no chink her armor.
Her head was turned to Ruske, her stance a little more rigid. “I do believe healing would be an excellent place to start. And as you said, the basics are of great import regardless.” Her words were still honeyed, but her gaze turned icy. The only indication of her hurt pride. At his second statement, she replied “I would have to disagree with you. There is nothing at all lucky about peace as it is rarely achieved through such fickle means. It comes through dedication, hard work, and sacrifice. Besides, one makes one's own luck.” She ended with a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Now back to the healing business, you referred me to one called Resplendence yes? Or do you believe you would prove an ample beginning instructor? At some later time of course.” Petra addressed the stallion, hoping that she would get the opportunity to smooth out their first impressions.
Petra walks. Petra thinks. Petra talks.
Image Credits: swillowness.deviantart.com, almondjoyy5.deviantart.com. Manip by PinnacleStudios
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[O] strangers make the best confidantes [Petra Welcoming]
