09-01-2016, 11:10 AM
The Jungle has seen an amazing increase in activity lately.
A new Queen will do that, she supposes. She has a fondness for Lexa though, they often greet new arrivals within seconds of each other and trade friendly nudges. Lagertha had entrusted them to the spotted mare, and Riva - easily biased towards the former Queen - has grown rather fond (as fond as Riva can anyway) of Lexa and all that she has done to breathe new life into the Jungle. Now, she can hardly imagine being anywhere but here, like she is now, patrolling the borders though it has never been asked of her to do so. It might also seem less likely that one who is a not a soldier is keeping watch over them, but hey, Riva has little else to do since other diplomats took off for the appointed kingdoms some days ago. Left behind, the bay tovero decides to be of some use to Queen and country.
A scent teases her out of the deeper parts of the Jungle --
The scent of a stallion.
This is not entirely unheard of - they come and go, as envoys of other kingdoms, and she reserves her judgment of his trespass deep into their sanctum. She has begun to trail him stealthily through the dense brush, but he can probably smell her - scent betrays them all in the end, and it seems like he is entirely too at home on these trails, nor does the Jungle balk at his presence as it might otherwise do in the face of a male presence inside her green growing heart. That to her, is a curious thing. He must have been born here then, that is the only reason she can think that the Jungle would not try to trip him up or halt his ingress so deeply into it. She is about to see to his presence amongst them and the reason for it, but a small black filly precedes her - Lexa’s adopted daughter; Riva has seen the red-eyed girl following at the Queen’s spotted flanks.
(It makes her think of her own adopted son, half-brother actually if one wants to be technical about it.)
She emerges from the brush and joins them, thin and sharp in her looks. “Who are you, indeed is the question burning in all of our minds.” Riva isn’t exactly kind, but she is for once, not overly rude either. Curiosity seems to take the reins here with her, steering her to the filly’s side as they both face the bay roan stallion. “You seem to know the Jungle better than most do. They never really get this far into Her.”
A new Queen will do that, she supposes. She has a fondness for Lexa though, they often greet new arrivals within seconds of each other and trade friendly nudges. Lagertha had entrusted them to the spotted mare, and Riva - easily biased towards the former Queen - has grown rather fond (as fond as Riva can anyway) of Lexa and all that she has done to breathe new life into the Jungle. Now, she can hardly imagine being anywhere but here, like she is now, patrolling the borders though it has never been asked of her to do so. It might also seem less likely that one who is a not a soldier is keeping watch over them, but hey, Riva has little else to do since other diplomats took off for the appointed kingdoms some days ago. Left behind, the bay tovero decides to be of some use to Queen and country.
A scent teases her out of the deeper parts of the Jungle --
The scent of a stallion.
This is not entirely unheard of - they come and go, as envoys of other kingdoms, and she reserves her judgment of his trespass deep into their sanctum. She has begun to trail him stealthily through the dense brush, but he can probably smell her - scent betrays them all in the end, and it seems like he is entirely too at home on these trails, nor does the Jungle balk at his presence as it might otherwise do in the face of a male presence inside her green growing heart. That to her, is a curious thing. He must have been born here then, that is the only reason she can think that the Jungle would not try to trip him up or halt his ingress so deeply into it. She is about to see to his presence amongst them and the reason for it, but a small black filly precedes her - Lexa’s adopted daughter; Riva has seen the red-eyed girl following at the Queen’s spotted flanks.
(It makes her think of her own adopted son, half-brother actually if one wants to be technical about it.)
She emerges from the brush and joins them, thin and sharp in her looks. “Who are you, indeed is the question burning in all of our minds.” Riva isn’t exactly kind, but she is for once, not overly rude either. Curiosity seems to take the reins here with her, steering her to the filly’s side as they both face the bay roan stallion. “You seem to know the Jungle better than most do. They never really get this far into Her.”