C i t y
City watches her come forward with perked ears, one eye covered by her long blond hair as she brings her head up to observe a little better. Out of all the bodies that are shifting in and out this evening, this one stands out. She's not sure why, but there is something about her that makes the old mare watch.
The mare's voice breaks the quiet and City flicks her long tail in response at first, looking the woman over with a hard curiousness - like a scientist might examine a cadaver. She smirks briefly, letting an amused scoff slip by. The woman must be speaking in sarcasms. A stiff old woman, blood smeared under her eyes, bones rolling in detail beneathed a scar-pocked coat. She tilts her face to expose one of her sulfur eyes, “I'm tempted to ask you the very same.” She doesn't offer a smile, but this is where she should, as she's not quite repulsed like she normally is by someone's approach.
The universe has delivered, it looks like. But did it? Is this woman blessed (or cursed) with eternal life? The gray mare doesn't pry just yet, but watches her, squinting at her details - was the woman hurt? She did not appear old, but something seemed a little off, certainly. City could push those thoughts as projection, and she waits for comfirmation with a little more observation.
in the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
@[Sabra] ❣
