the dead are gone
The mare is grinning at her with an expression that reminds Lexa all too much of one of the Jungle cats eyeing its next meal. She shifts awkwardly and her eyes drop to the dirt at her feet, unsure of exactly how to react. She lets out a short, forced laugh at the mare’s comment, which is probably just as awkward as she currently looks. “Doesn’t help either that she can call a thunderstorm when she’s pissed.”
She takes a breath, trying to steady herself, and looks back up into those dizzying dark brown eyes. “Thanks.” She’s actually never given her name too much thought (other than to recognize her family’s apparent propensity towards ‘L’ names), but the way this mare describes it somehow makes it feel all the more fitting. Like a good, well tailored glove. “What’s your name?” She’s suddenly overcome by the desire to reach out, to touch (what would that blue coat feel like against her muzzle?), but the moment the thought rears its head, she squirrels it away into a corner of her mind. What the hell is she doing? She doesn’t know this mare - the both of them are complete strangers to each other. And Lexa personally would not take kindly to some stranger she she just met deciding to get a little touchy feely.
What is wrong with her though? She’s never felt like this before. Never wanted to touch some random stranger she just met in the middle of the meadow. This sort of behaviour and desire is so unlike her. Is she going crazy?
Her ears perk as the mare mentions tattoos, and her mother, and Lexa welcomes the mental distraction, trying to divorce her mind from how she feels (though somehow she still shivers slightly when the mare’s tongue seemingly caresses the word ‘intimate’). “Your mother was an Amazon? What was her name?” Not that she would know her - the way the mare speaks in the past tense makes Lexa think the mare’s mother is long gone from the kingdom. As for her own tattoo …
“My tattoo is hidden in my spots.” She turns to her left so that her right side is on display for the mare to see. The caiman is in the centre of her flank, curled around one of her spots. “I still have no idea why the Jungle chose a caiman.” The meaning behind her mother’s tattoo had been obvious, but her own? Who knows.
and the living are hungry.
lexa.