down in the valley with whisky rivers; djinni

[Djinni]

djinni

He does not pull away, and she keeps the contact as long as he lets her, smiling up at him when they separate. He teases her about her rather horrendous battle skills and she shakes her head, affecting an offended expression that she doesn’t mean. Her father had tried to teach them as children, but only Mellark had ever truly been interested. Djinni had preferred to spend time with her mother, listening to the stories of Beqanna and of the world beyond. She’d soaked up tales that way her brother had absorbed the skills necessary as a warrior. She’d have never imagined that it would take her nearly seventy years to learn how to fight (beyond the basics of self-defense that any girl with sense learns).

They change topics rather quickly, and this time the subject is one that Djinni seems to have far more skill at handling than her spotted companion does. The timing is no longer ideal for conception, but confusion and mischief have no seasons. She laughs, pressing her muzzle to his shoulder in a nonverbal reassurance that yes, of course he is handsome. She holds her touch a bit longer, but when she pulls back and her smile is more kind than it is alluring.

He would make a good distraction, she knows, but Zai is worth more than a distraction.

“I’d like you to stay.” Says the grullo mare. “They can be your woods too.”

current appearance:
slim build
smokey grullo tobiano
sea green eyes