03-18-2017, 06:30 PM
Circinae has never minded talking, it’s good practice and opens doors to strange places. It’s the ones who do a bit too much talking that give her reason to mind them. His first reply, though meant in lighthearted goodwill, has her gaze narrowing for the breath of the moment. He certainly looked like a lot of things, but none of them were idiot or insane. The bright mare sighs, thinking, “No matter” as he continues with his string of interrogation, “He just lacks a sense of humor.” And who could blame him? It couldn’t be all fun and games forever. At least not out there, where the rules of engagement meant nothing. Hasn’t even been that long since she was there herself.
He’s still talking though, peering upwards and every single way as if to size up the initial area surrounding them. Surveying it for personal reasons, the better to decide whether or not he enjoyed the atmosphere. Her line of sight catches the glint of the sun as it bathes his exposed jugular, a ebony fruit ripe for the plucking, and she manages to hold her tongue while a soft laugh dies in her own throat. The outsider didn’t choose Taiga. Taiga chose her own. “Do you live here? ... Would you recommend living here?” He asks, but the wolf-mare is growing tired of his endless checkpoints and decides instead to give him a taste of his own fodder.
“Does it look like I live here?” She retorts, an impish grin blooming flawlessly across her lips as she eases forward. It was not for her to fear him in this place: rather, the other way around. If he could scrutinize her beloved woods, then he too could be thumbed under a microscope. Her fluid gait is easy-going, no hint of aggression or irritation in her body language to cause him concern while she circles him deftly. Those soft, cerulean eyes trace the outline of his shape and she stops when they are face-to-face again, amusement washing over her expression. “I would recommend that you find out for yourself, stranger.” She tells him, settling once more into her spot. “That is, of course, if you don’t mind things that go bump in the night.”
He’s still talking though, peering upwards and every single way as if to size up the initial area surrounding them. Surveying it for personal reasons, the better to decide whether or not he enjoyed the atmosphere. Her line of sight catches the glint of the sun as it bathes his exposed jugular, a ebony fruit ripe for the plucking, and she manages to hold her tongue while a soft laugh dies in her own throat. The outsider didn’t choose Taiga. Taiga chose her own. “Do you live here? ... Would you recommend living here?” He asks, but the wolf-mare is growing tired of his endless checkpoints and decides instead to give him a taste of his own fodder.
“Does it look like I live here?” She retorts, an impish grin blooming flawlessly across her lips as she eases forward. It was not for her to fear him in this place: rather, the other way around. If he could scrutinize her beloved woods, then he too could be thumbed under a microscope. Her fluid gait is easy-going, no hint of aggression or irritation in her body language to cause him concern while she circles him deftly. Those soft, cerulean eyes trace the outline of his shape and she stops when they are face-to-face again, amusement washing over her expression. “I would recommend that you find out for yourself, stranger.” She tells him, settling once more into her spot. “That is, of course, if you don’t mind things that go bump in the night.”
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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