Romantica
Perhaps the naivety of her nature would be her down fall, allow her to be consumed by a wold in sheep's clothing. She had known none of the loss that he hides beneath hooded eyes, glassy and distant despite the closeness of their bodies. "And Kensely." The mare chimes with a quirked mouth, curved and genuine as she reflects a satisfaction to know he was no longer a stranger.
Romy looks off with a slight uncertainty of how to continue their conversation. It seemed so mechanical to go through the usual reel of questions, dissecting a history of names that she would never known. The hum of insects drift between them and seem to grow louder as her lips slid closed. Romantica was comfortable in silence but wonders if the man was as well.
The dappled mare turns away slightly, her dark eyes drifting, as she sighs. Autumn was a creeping beast just beyond the bright green of summer leaves. She wonders where she will go, if she would even stay. Beqanna's fickle nature had the ability to wink out a horse, snuffing like a candle flame, just over night. "Do you call a place home?" She asks gently when returning her gaze to Kensley's own eyes. She had no home of her own nor had she ever really laid enough roots down to even claim an alliance among the lands but it was always a good question to ask when enjoying the company of a new face.