06-21-2018, 04:02 PM
Leilan
Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
She sure has a good idea of where she wants to go and what she wants. He can appreciate her like-minded movements, and the fact that she does not ask twice. He grins at her demanding tease, dipping his head. However, he feels like sharing, having been called stranger once before for the duration of a whole conversation, and besides, it would be a one-sided exchange from the start if he didn't tell her. "Name's Leilan. But if you come up with something else, I'll make it work just for you." he winks.
She shifts closer like a water nymf through the sea, making the grassy waves part instead of pushing through. Or at least she makes it seem so - perhaps some mares are gifted with abilities, but surely not as many as he has seen. No, it must be some trick that only mares can learn. The point being - elegant and swift, she is close now, and his light-brown eyes follow her every move. He doesn't verbally answer the question - she's already having him for company, and so much more if she only makes a move. His lips curl at her mentioning the weather. "Although I should mention, it is a rather hot day." he muses, mumbles almost, as she moves past him in that same fluid motion. She circles him, talking, and his eyes and ears follow her without him moving his head more than a few inches in total, the peripheral vision of a horse excellent material for such things. He flicks his tail at her when she passes a second time, making her assessments. He grins when she mentions sun-bleached for his silver mane and tail and roaning, and jerks back easily, equally teaching. "Stay away of lemon juice. Nasty stuff." he tells her in a semi-serious tone, as if that's the secret to his colouring.
She guesses about right - warrior, Nerine. Well, that would have been the case had Ischia not been a better fit, but perhaps she hasn't heard of the brotherhood yet. Her own smell is indistinct; all over the place, but yet as if she hasn't been in Beqanna very long, which would explain her lack of knowledge on the politics. "Close," he muses, ears perked towards her. "I'm going to guess that you're a different type of warrior... or some very persuasive diplomat, but one who's been without a home for a while." he sums up. The type of fights she would be in... probably very unlike the one he usually partakes in with his brothers. And her yet would not mind joining her in whatever dance she would like to start.
She shifts closer like a water nymf through the sea, making the grassy waves part instead of pushing through. Or at least she makes it seem so - perhaps some mares are gifted with abilities, but surely not as many as he has seen. No, it must be some trick that only mares can learn. The point being - elegant and swift, she is close now, and his light-brown eyes follow her every move. He doesn't verbally answer the question - she's already having him for company, and so much more if she only makes a move. His lips curl at her mentioning the weather. "Although I should mention, it is a rather hot day." he muses, mumbles almost, as she moves past him in that same fluid motion. She circles him, talking, and his eyes and ears follow her without him moving his head more than a few inches in total, the peripheral vision of a horse excellent material for such things. He flicks his tail at her when she passes a second time, making her assessments. He grins when she mentions sun-bleached for his silver mane and tail and roaning, and jerks back easily, equally teaching. "Stay away of lemon juice. Nasty stuff." he tells her in a semi-serious tone, as if that's the secret to his colouring.
She guesses about right - warrior, Nerine. Well, that would have been the case had Ischia not been a better fit, but perhaps she hasn't heard of the brotherhood yet. Her own smell is indistinct; all over the place, but yet as if she hasn't been in Beqanna very long, which would explain her lack of knowledge on the politics. "Close," he muses, ears perked towards her. "I'm going to guess that you're a different type of warrior... or some very persuasive diplomat, but one who's been without a home for a while." he sums up. The type of fights she would be in... probably very unlike the one he usually partakes in with his brothers. And her yet would not mind joining her in whatever dance she would like to start.
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Rey]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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