As she watches his grey form in the grass, she wonders if perhaps she should not have approached. He takes his time to respond; lifting his head, dropping it, but just when she thinks that no, he’s not accepting visitors today, he stands. His motions quicker and more fluid than she had anticipated, she stops walking immediately, freezing for a heartbeat. She blinks to his words. Ah yes, now, while she knows that she really hasn’t approached in any proper way, but that should not mean she should be rude and not introduce herself. A small smile curls to her lips as she takes in the compliment - or flirt, or whatever the reason that he talks to her like that, she just thinks it a positive move on his side. ”My name’s Ilma. What should I address you with?” she asks in return. He moves with a certain carelessness, she does not fail to notice. It intrigues her, attracts her, but in a way that she knows might be dangerous. She’s not supposed to get closer, yet she does, offering her nose for an exchange of scents should he want to participate - and if not, she still knows that she will remember his. Frankly, it is the first actual male (mature male, that is) scent that she has smelled since her arrival in Beqanna, she realizes. And as that realization hits, she needs that she should tone it down. It’s not like this year will be the only season ever for her to reproduce. Seriously, Ilma! she scolds herself. All this passes silently, though. Quickly, also, thank goodness. Suddenly aware of her own body, she moves the wings on her back as if to rearrange them - something to distract herself, perhaps him too. He might just have an awful character, you know. Although she doesn’t really believe that - awful horses would have told her to just fuck off, or have ignored her completely. Right? Right. |
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time