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How fickle my heart,
and how woozy my eyes.
It doesn’t surprise the antlered stallion when the black and blue mare—whom he has now oh-so-affectionately dubbed ‘Frosty’ in his mind, given her icy demeanor and the fact that she has thus far withheld her true name—either ignores or glares at him. Aside from his sensitive moments, Rohan is a character who is generally unruffled by the petty discourtesies of others (having an ego that is large enough to accommodate more than just himself). His large frame relaxes with feigned comfort, chalking up the crawling of his skin to the wintry weather and giving her an exaggerated, if not a bit scornful, expression of affectionate regard.and how woozy my eyes.
Who does she think she is, anyway? Standing there, all gorgeous and frozen. This lady acts as if he is the one who has been rude since their meeting, when she is the one who will not even give her name, or talk to him in any tone other than contempt—hypocrite much? In any case, who is the one giving all the icy stares here? What has he done? The young stallion amuses himself—he has nothing to feel repentant for, after all—and his brown lips twist into a taunting smirk as an almost mocking chuckle rumbles deeply from his broad chest.
“No need to worry about that, princess. I have taken to the wilds myself, and I daresay they probably wouldn’t suit your…delicate tastes,” Rohan is tempted to give her something irritating—a wink, a kissy face, anything—but he settles for a crooked, provoking grin and a light of overconfidence in his eye. It is all assumption, of course—he knows nothing about Frosty—but it just sounds so good sliding over his tongue that he couldn’t help himself.
Exhaling from his nostrils, the antlered stallion shifts the green of his eyes to Enna when she hesitates an answer. Looking down, he gives her a more genuine smile. Had he known her thoughts, Rohan would have been grateful for the small mare not speaking up. Despite her insecurities about herself, he does not look for help—especially not in a situation as petty as this—and considers himself more than capable of handling Frosty and her beauty and bitterness. It is quite entertaining, if he is honest—a welcome distraction to sleep’s unsettling visions.
Twisting an ear towards her, he purses his lips. He hadn’t remembered that Enna was from the Basin, had she said that in their initial meeting? For all of its judged faults, the mountainous fortress certainly does breed a fine class of ladies. If only. Still, he cannot resist Enna’s tantalizing grin with one of his own, and he pauses with a baited breath before continuing. “I’ll admit a place to rest doesn’t sound half bad, but as tempting as the idea is to vacation with you lovely ladies—” a dramatically playful glance is cast to the blue-marked mare, his eyes narrowing as his smirk broadens “—I’m afraid I don’t know much about this mysterious land in the mountains; perhaps all I’ve heard is myth.”
There is almost a hint of hopefulness in Rohan’s voice, but it is quickly smothered by the verdict in his eyes. Would it be possible to rank beneath a fractured kingdom, knowing its faults? (Is there a kingdom that isn’t?) His eyes turn to Enna. “What do you know of your home?” It is an innocent question, playful in its bait. Does she know about its discrimination? Its intolerance?
Could he live like that again?
“Speech.”
@Ahvelyn @Enna
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