it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased; any

[Isobell]

Isobell

i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

The painted mare walks the edges of Nerine on most days despite searing sun of cool rain. The pacing soothed the furrow of her scaled brow as she was able to pick apart issues and find the solicitations in the depths of the craggy land, tracing the land like a blind hand down a hallway. She enjoy the particular feel of the summer day as it coated her scales in a warm embrace.

Isobell, coated in moonstone white and glassy obsidian scales, does not fear why lay around the dark corners of her mind's eye. She walks with a tall head and smoldering silver eyes with only the sound of the salt water bashed against the cliffs to be her cadence.  She lets her eyes close as one hoof falls in front of the other but soon the sound of a voice -no two, casues ehr eyes to slide open. A hint of annoyance touches her features as she seemed to have encroached upon a private meeting. The mare does not slow her pace till she finds herself joining the group, a brow lifted, a twitch of her dark lips lifting upward curiously.

"Hello, hello." Her voice is cool and smooth as the well polished sea glass at their hooves. Had she disrupted a meeting? A private rendezvous? Judging by their expressions, the woman thinks that perhaps she stumbled upon them not soon after they had found each other. Their faces are unfamiliar but perhaps they had been in Nerine before during her mother's reign...she doesn't recall but with all the recent changes Isobell believes they will understand. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" Of course she was not interrupting. She was the leader of Nerine but still the young mare prods with a curious tilt of her head and shining pewter eyes.