Djinni is never afraid. There is no trap she cannot escape, no injury she cannot avoid, no danger she cannot outrun.
Of course, she can’t ever get away from herself, and so rather than admit to it – admit to weakness – she grows defiant.
“Try it.” Djinni taunts, her eyes flashing in challenge. She doesn’t give him a chance to accept, simply leans over and presses her head against his neck. She’s there for a single moment, long enough for her heart to beat but once, and then she’s gone.
“I don’t share.” She says from six feet away, her eyes returned to the glimmering green of their shared sea, the softness gone as quickly as it had come. She might have, a moment ago, a moment before he’d told her Nayl denies him just as she has. And she doesn’t share – but more importantly she does not settle for second best.
“I’m sure there’s some nice Sylvan mare who can show you a good time.” She adds, her voice deceptively helpful. Little does she know that Nayl has told him much the same: that he’s free to do what he wants, with whom he wants. The sentiment might be the same, but Nayl is probably less inclined to actually dispose of any of Stillwater’s potential paramours. No one will miss a backwater Sylvan mare. There is a rather convenient volcano in Tephra.
With hard eyes, she holds his gaze with hers for a moment longer, and then turns away as the appaloosa Raene, tossing the following words over her shoulder:
“I have diplomats to interview. Perhaps you could do something…fighting-y.”
slim build
smoky grullo minimal tobiano
mare