02-28-2018, 08:56 PM
A brief shudder runs down her spine. By the time it reaches her tail, the rose gold mare has become ever-so-slighlty more slender. The thick, shaggy coat she’s grown in preparation for a Nerinian winter isn’t needed here. It was cumbersome, and so she’s rid herself of it.
The bay mare looks exhausted, and Djinni notes the way she keeps a single ear pointed back. There is someone back there, the dun mare presumes, probably a child born this past spring if Krone’s slumped body language is anything to judge by.
As the mare comes forward, they are passed over by a large shadow. Djinni glances upward, and a half-smile flickers across her mouth for a moment. She looks back down at Krone, who has just now come near enough to converse and greets her with a polite nod and neutral expression.
Far more neutral than the bay stallion’s expression, anyhow. Her dancing green eyes flick to his, and she grins as he attempts to puzzle her out. She knows the moment he reaches the answer, but there is less pleasure in his expression at the discovery than she might have expected. She doesn’t have time to figure out what’s changed, and it never occurs to her that Brennen might think she’d judge him for following his heart away from Nerine.
The green-tipped mare introduces herself, confirming both the rumors of the Ischian’s odd choice of title for their monarch and her own position as ruler of the island realm. She asks what brings Djinni here, and while she knows that the correct answer is something about alliances and treaties, Djinni can’t quite give in to such monotony.
At least not yet, and not entirely.
”I wanted to see if Brennen here was sure he really liked that size of wing. They always did seem too large for my liking.”
At this she does finally smile, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.
The bay mare looks exhausted, and Djinni notes the way she keeps a single ear pointed back. There is someone back there, the dun mare presumes, probably a child born this past spring if Krone’s slumped body language is anything to judge by.
As the mare comes forward, they are passed over by a large shadow. Djinni glances upward, and a half-smile flickers across her mouth for a moment. She looks back down at Krone, who has just now come near enough to converse and greets her with a polite nod and neutral expression.
Far more neutral than the bay stallion’s expression, anyhow. Her dancing green eyes flick to his, and she grins as he attempts to puzzle her out. She knows the moment he reaches the answer, but there is less pleasure in his expression at the discovery than she might have expected. She doesn’t have time to figure out what’s changed, and it never occurs to her that Brennen might think she’d judge him for following his heart away from Nerine.
The green-tipped mare introduces herself, confirming both the rumors of the Ischian’s odd choice of title for their monarch and her own position as ruler of the island realm. She asks what brings Djinni here, and while she knows that the correct answer is something about alliances and treaties, Djinni can’t quite give in to such monotony.
At least not yet, and not entirely.
”I wanted to see if Brennen here was sure he really liked that size of wing. They always did seem too large for my liking.”
At this she does finally smile, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.