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Pale marble and gray stone was moving, knee joints cracking, as it continued beside black obsidian, the two of them wandering through the sand like right old friends. But marble, stone, and volcanic rock do not feel as these horses feel. Jaws parted, delayed hesitantly, before reciprocating Destrier's kind words. "Thank you. You are kind." Simple, clear words come from the silken pearl mouth, before the lips seal themselves.
Close enough the two steeds were that the maiden heard the dark prince's deep sigh, and sighs were so very often a sound of regret and woe. It was irresistible, this insatiable urge to query what harried his soul to let out a grave sigh, and so the mistress let her homely nature take over. "Why do you sigh so, Destrier?" Moments afterwards, there was apprehension gnawing at her stomach; who was she to tread on his worries, when she had so gracelessly refused from telling the handsome horse what was on her mind?
An apology was always in order, even if the stallion told her otherwise, and so Tor twisted her head in a firm like shake, a slight curl of her lips downwards. "Maybe so, but that does not mean one can get away without giving their regrets for another. If that makes sense of any sort..." Vocalizing it, it didn't seem to fit together the way it should've.
On the two wandered, the wind a grinning thing twisting in the air, fiddling with manes black and silver. Tor resisted the urge to let the air escape her lungs; it did seem she had got into quite the habit of her sighs. Meandering they were, and so the lady let her thoughts relax, let the sweet salty air cleanse the more bitter parts of her soul; and she did imagine neatly putting away all those regrets and anger, instead airing out the happy memories. Of mother and father and sister and brother, of adventures, of games and young, untroubled times. Did the gods, the draft wondered, create the inhabitants of Helovia? Or did they sculpt only the lands?
"It is good of you to be so caring for your family. A quality like that is something born not created." He was a softer soul, so much less mysterious than Lace... and she found herself relaxing in a way unlike any other. It was endearing, talking, learning about someone new. The painted mistress found herself enjoying every moment of this, found herself warming almost immediately to this kindly boy. "I'm afraid of war." Tor said suddenly, and immediately she wants to snatch it back. What a thing to say...
"I don't know what side I'm on."
T O R
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