10-02-2017, 10:43 AM
isobell
It was hard to not notice the grey mountain of a horse. He is a tall stallion, leggy and wild eyed as he walks with a slight hitch thought it is not of injury. Perhaps his demeanor? Isobell is not well versed in the art of talking with strange men so she is quiet as she watches from her small plot of earth, the tender bits of grass still caught between her unmarked lips.
She is a young mare, black and white painted, much like her mother and she is not sure why she is in the field. She is not homeless but in fact a princess of Nerine, daughter to the dragon warrior and the iron queen. Perhaps she wanted some change. Perhaps she wanted to find someone different. Any way it was sliced, the pretty mare decides to approach the lone man.
His skin is slick and tight over his bones. She can catch a few glimpses of startling blue eyes that rove and jostle with an uncertainty that she has never known. The mare is immortal and therefore bold. She holds her delicately made head high, the wisp of summer breeze catching and lifting the long locks of her mane and tail. She doesn't hide herself behind invisible shield. She does not dance between raindrops and flower petals. The young mare moves towards him, eyeing the dribble of water on his chin and the hunger in his eyes. She attempts a nod in greeting but watching him closely through the silk of her white forelock.
"Hello." Her voice is softer than her exterior but the inflection is low so she remains steady with her syllables, the word enunciated with perfect execution. "Welcome to Beqanna. I'm Isobell of Nerine." She finishes her statement while holding his form with her silver eyes. "What's your name?" She inquires with a single ear politely offered to him, her delicate form standing solid under the warmth of the summer sky, waiting for his reply.
She is a young mare, black and white painted, much like her mother and she is not sure why she is in the field. She is not homeless but in fact a princess of Nerine, daughter to the dragon warrior and the iron queen. Perhaps she wanted some change. Perhaps she wanted to find someone different. Any way it was sliced, the pretty mare decides to approach the lone man.
His skin is slick and tight over his bones. She can catch a few glimpses of startling blue eyes that rove and jostle with an uncertainty that she has never known. The mare is immortal and therefore bold. She holds her delicately made head high, the wisp of summer breeze catching and lifting the long locks of her mane and tail. She doesn't hide herself behind invisible shield. She does not dance between raindrops and flower petals. The young mare moves towards him, eyeing the dribble of water on his chin and the hunger in his eyes. She attempts a nod in greeting but watching him closely through the silk of her white forelock.
"Hello." Her voice is softer than her exterior but the inflection is low so she remains steady with her syllables, the word enunciated with perfect execution. "Welcome to Beqanna. I'm Isobell of Nerine." She finishes her statement while holding his form with her silver eyes. "What's your name?" She inquires with a single ear politely offered to him, her delicate form standing solid under the warmth of the summer sky, waiting for his reply.
i'll wait for you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea