He studies her and she keeps a careful eye on him. She’s a fool, she realizes, for being out here. The North offers shelter and security. The Common Lands only offer chaos.
But there had been something in the tug of a rare easterly breeze that sighed and pulled her away from Taiga that morning. From her element, as Juice seemed to think of it. "@[Juice],” she finally says, trying the unfamiliar name on her tongue and attempting a small smile. It’s not his fault that she is afraid of the Forest. It’s not his fault that she comes out here time and time again like some unspoken challenge - an act of her own irrational defiance.
"Likewise,” she agrees as her own weight shifts and settles from one side to another. Lilliana makes no motion to come closer but her blue eyes no longer flutter away to the brush behind him, searching for the nearest path that would allow her to leave quickly.
The sabino stallion gives an airy laugh and the smile on her face eases, finally reaches and blossoms in the warmth of her gaze. "Are kingdoms not good enough for you then?” It is said without judgment - for some horses, the life of a nomad is all they need. As the daughter of one, she would never begrudge someone their desire to wander. Their world is filled to the brim with characters, all with their own unique part to play. The question is asked, instead, with all her easy-going humor.
('Three horses see a mountain. One might move on, another might decide to conquer it and another might long to know what is on the other side,’ her mother had once said.)
Genuinely curious, she asks with an attentive tilt of her head: "How did you end up in the Forest?”
Where, he asks, is her element. Or rather what is her element. The smile falls a little as she considers this and it pauses their banter. "If I have one,” the Diplomat offers, "it would be the North. As to what," her brow furrows with contemplation, "Air, perhaps.” Lilliana speaks with a soft voice, thinking of Valerio and his affinity for the winds. "Water,” she adds, thinking of the peace she finds walking by the River. "Stone. Forest.” Lonely, gray cliffs of Nerine. The proud, unwavering strength of Taiga. The chestnut gives her slender shoulders a shrug and a rueful smile to Juice, "I’m afraid I can’t pick just one.”
But there had been something in the tug of a rare easterly breeze that sighed and pulled her away from Taiga that morning. From her element, as Juice seemed to think of it. "@[Juice],” she finally says, trying the unfamiliar name on her tongue and attempting a small smile. It’s not his fault that she is afraid of the Forest. It’s not his fault that she comes out here time and time again like some unspoken challenge - an act of her own irrational defiance.
"Likewise,” she agrees as her own weight shifts and settles from one side to another. Lilliana makes no motion to come closer but her blue eyes no longer flutter away to the brush behind him, searching for the nearest path that would allow her to leave quickly.
The sabino stallion gives an airy laugh and the smile on her face eases, finally reaches and blossoms in the warmth of her gaze. "Are kingdoms not good enough for you then?” It is said without judgment - for some horses, the life of a nomad is all they need. As the daughter of one, she would never begrudge someone their desire to wander. Their world is filled to the brim with characters, all with their own unique part to play. The question is asked, instead, with all her easy-going humor.
('Three horses see a mountain. One might move on, another might decide to conquer it and another might long to know what is on the other side,’ her mother had once said.)
Genuinely curious, she asks with an attentive tilt of her head: "How did you end up in the Forest?”
Where, he asks, is her element. Or rather what is her element. The smile falls a little as she considers this and it pauses their banter. "If I have one,” the Diplomat offers, "it would be the North. As to what," her brow furrows with contemplation, "Air, perhaps.” Lilliana speaks with a soft voice, thinking of Valerio and his affinity for the winds. "Water,” she adds, thinking of the peace she finds walking by the River. "Stone. Forest.” Lonely, gray cliffs of Nerine. The proud, unwavering strength of Taiga. The chestnut gives her slender shoulders a shrug and a rueful smile to Juice, "I’m afraid I can’t pick just one.”
LILLIANA
all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
(as long as i'm laughing with you)
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind