Persephone

To suggest that the sunset mare did not look well as an outcast would be an understatement.  Her pretty locks were ragged, despite her best attempts to clean them; her ribs showed, albeit just barely, beneath her colorful hide.  There was a gaunt look to her eyes that spoke of hardship and fear, and as she cowered before the massive stallion, it was quite obvious that she was not well-suited to the life of a loner.  She was not entirely unhealthy, but it had been a long, difficult winter, and she had not fared well as an outcast.

Still, what was she to have done?  It had been difficult enough to gather her courage to leave the Halcyon Flats, had been terrifying enough to attempt conversation with those who happened to wander through.  What if they had wanted to hurt her?  Use her?  Steal her?  And then, lo and behold, this Dauntless Czar had appeared to usher her into his dark grasp.  It seemed just then that all of her fears had been well-placed, that she had worried for a very good reason.  What chance did she stand against such a strong stallion?

And so she stood before him, shaking with fear, refusing to meet his gaze.  Her ears were flicked back, her eyes cast to the sands, her body was tense, all waiting for a biting word or a bitter strike that would not come.  It was the waiting that tormented the girl, for she had no doubt that this stallion, like her father, had use only for what benefit she could offer him.  But here... she could no longer raise the dead.  She could think of only one other use that could attract a stallion, and somehow the threat of physical use scared her more than anything else.

Do not be afraid, he said; she peered cautiously up at him from beneath her forelock, distrust evident in the fearful lines of her face.  What trickery is this?  He continued to speak, and she stared at him stupidly, uncomprehending.  He had taken her, and yet he had done so merely to offer her a home?  He had stolen her, and yet he meant her no harm?  She might have laughed at the absurdity, but something about his menacing dominant pose cowed her into silence.  A moment passed, and then two.

Then:  "Why?" she croaked, her voice a hoarse squeak.  She cleared her throat, shaking her head, forcing her eyes to refocus and her voice to work.  "Wh-what did I -- h-how did you -- why me?"

"Speech."

OOC ;; @Archibald

Lost in hell, my dear. It's not so dreadful here

Persephone

The dog settled into the dust alongside her bonded, drawing the sunset mare's gaze for a moment. So distracted had she been by the massive form of Archibald that she had yet to truly look at the wolf-like creature that accompanied him. Somehow, Loretta was the least terrifying of the two, and Persephone forced herself to focus on the golden-brown colors of the Malamute's fur, the way it faded to a white chest and legs, the pretty, expressive features of the dog's face; she did not look at Loretta's eyes, afraid to see the sharp, predatory hunger that she expected to see there. By the time she had finished her analysis, counting silently to herself all the while (1, 2, 3, 4... 10), she had stopped trembling.

"For someone to survive so long in the Wilds alone, they must be strong." This raised Persephone's eyes to his, a dubious look beneath raised brows. Strong? Her? It gave the mare pause, to consider the suggestion. She had not been strong when she had been subjected to her father's will. She had not been strong when she had tried to help fight the strange god that had fallen through the Rift. She had not been strong when she had lingered in the Flats for months, too afraid to venture elsewhere. And yet... she had left home, when it had become too much, determined to keep her father from using her any longer. She had managed to try to save the egg from the lights, those few weeks ago. And now she was standing before a giant warrior and his guard dog, and she was not fainting from fear.

The realization bolstered her confidence. Perhaps she was strong, or at least stronger than she gave herself credit for. Persephone was no warrior maiden, nor had she the desire to become one, but from Archibald's words, she could almost imagine that she possessed a different kind of strength. A small smile appeared in spite of herself, for despite her capture at the hands of the brutish stallion, he had given her a precious gift: for the first time in many moons, Persephone thought that she might be able to believe in herself again. "Your manner of invitation is strange," she ventured softly when the steed had finished speaking, emboldened by the smile that he had offered and the gentility of his words. "But... if you are truly in need of members..."

Persephone remembered Agnodice, how sympathetic she had been, how she had been able to offer herbs to help with almost all of the sunset mare's ailments. Agnodice had been a healer from the Hidden Falls, and the memory of such kindness, more than anything else, drove the sunset mare to decide. "I am not skilled in the healing arts, but... I want to learn. I... would appreciate the home, in truth," she admitted almost sheepishly, ducking her head shyly.

"Speech."

@Archibald

Lost in hell, my dear. It's not so dreadful here