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As they stood there, staring at one another from across the grove, it began to snow. The flakes drifted lazily at first, swirling in eddies around them. December lifted her head as if to welcome the weather, but Sheba raised her own with a hint of wariness. She did not like what she saw, eyeing the sky and the darker, heavier clouds that loomed on the horizon.
The draft’s reply interrupted her thoughts. “That must have been a hard decision for you to make,” came the flat voice. Sheba tilted an ear in her direction, unsure whether the slight intonation in December’s monotone was intended to be sarcasm or genuine amusement. “I give careful consideration to all of my decisions,” the wizened mare returned, keeping her own tone carefully even. “Only fools don’t think before they sp—AUGH!” she shrieked, as the spittle landed at her hooves. “C’est quoi, ce—!” she began heatedly, staring aghast at the steaming puddle in the snow. But no sooner than she was about to let fly the foulest word was the llama flying towards the pond, launched by a powerful kick from December’s massive hooves. Wide-eyed, she reined in her tongue. While she was seething, her offender’s swift journey through the air reminded her that it would be unwise to let curses fly at a giantess.
“He for some reason likes you,” December concluded, her slow drawl commenting upon the rarity of the situation. And I for some reason doubt it, Sheba thought, jaw clenched, though she kept her opinions to herself. Whatever had just happened certainly didn’t look like affection to her.
However, the show was not yet over. Undeterred, the fluffy creature came charging back up the bank and lunged at his mistress, only to be slammed to the snow again as though he were no more than a buzzing fly. Sheba stood frozen in place as the giantess casually spit tufts of fur from her mouth and remarked drily upon her animal’s, well, animal tendencies. More like a menace to society, she privately thought, but all she could offer the woman was an affronted gaze, the happy medium between preserving her dignity and preserving her physical wellbeing.
She might have walked off then and there, if the snow hadn’t begun to fall more heavily, large flakes cartwheeling from the sky to coat her back and cling to her lashes. A storm was rolling in, and it seemed that she would no longer have the option of rolling out. “There’s a blizzard coming,” she said abruptly, changing the subject. “Better find shelter.” And while the last thing she wanted to do right now was to wait out the snow cozied up to December and that maniac with an underbite, if she didn’t want to end up frozen beneath one of the snowdrifts, it looked like she didn’t have much of a choice.
"speech"
OOC: ...I don't even know
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