Yseulte didn't know why she chose to follow him, but she did.
She knew it wasn't very polite of her to go snooping after him, but the grullo stallion had intrigued her with his ageless eyes and strange acts of kindness and his interesting display of affection for his Edge herd mates. He was a most bizarre specimen, one she had never met the likes of before. Zjarri would have despised him. And perhaps that was why she slunk after him like some feral cat, stalking him like his own shadow. Or, more likely, Yseulte simply had a certain disregard for rules and social norms.
While Tor might have been stressing about being a stalker, Yseulte embraced it.
He wouldn't notice her presence, not unless she wished it. She was accustomed to moving with the shadows, blending like a wraith into the night. Only fleeting flashes of blonde hair shot silver by moonlight and a whispered hush of flattened grass hinted at her passing presence. Her eyes were lit with starlight, and the canopy over head laced her back in patterns of trembling leaves and pine needles. The spring moss underfoot felt cool and springy, and the grasses brushed against her knees with a delicate touch. She used her pearl horn to sweep a curtain of tangled ivy apart, her gaze never leaving the silver stallion's movements.
She was somewhat surprised when another moonlit figure joined the chase just ahead of her, follow Lace just as silently. She certainly didn't recognize the pale mare, but that didn't mean she wasn't from the Edge. Yseulte only knew a select few from her new homeland, and so perhaps she simply hadn't met this one before. However, it made no difference where the mare was from. What mattered was why she was here. Why were they both here, in this silent, still grove?
Oh, oh no.
A moonlit affair? Yseulte wrinkled her nose in disgust, like a child who had discovered a particularly revolting bug. She almost abandoned the stalking of Lace right then and there to leave him with his lady, determined to find a nice sea cave to sleep away the nightmarish images that swamped her head. However, as she begin to turn away, she realized one set of hoof beats had faded. She risked a brief glance back, noting the mare had stopped her advance and was huddled in the shadows, watching. Frowning, Yseulte directed her gaze to Lace, who had stopped near the spring's edge, and was summoning thick strands of darkness from the shadows, and it was then Yseulte realized what she was witnessing.
Creation.
Creation far different than the sort she had previously assumed was about to take place, of course. No longer worried about keeping her presence hidden from the mare or Lace, Yseulte strode forward with paces soft as the starlight on the water's surface. She halted a respectful distance away from the stallion so that she wouldn't interrupt his taming of the darkness, and watched with open fascination as he fashioned wraiths of darkness to do his bidding. So enraptured by the mastery of his craft, the presence of the unknown mare was forgotten.
Until she sneezed.
Yseutle flattened her ears in an irritated manner, shooting an annoyed look across the clearing in the mare's direction.
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a glaziers pace (crafting glass, open)
