isn't she lovely?
At first the beige nomad is ignorant to the black stallion’s inner dialogue, his hesitant inquisition as invisible as the envy Ruth has that the grey stallion still had his wings. She hadn’t wanted them until they were gone, and then suddenly the sky became a territory she desperately needed to search. But then the black stallion evidently changes, and Ruth sees it.
Her eyes find him after the brief sentence she is able to spit out, realizing his eyes had come clouded with… Anger? Frustration? And while the poker face may have been able to hold up in silence, his following unamused contribution to the conversation leaves her with undeniable doubt his eyes were a fiery shade of something.
Ruth is ignorant to envy and jealousy, life hadn’t taught her that lesson yet. She had somehow found one heart to beat with and the competition had been nonexistent; the falling part had been easy, like a rock tumbling into beautiful waters instead of wallowing on a cliff edge.
Which only means she is also just as ignorant to being swooned, a mare unaware of the advances the universe had to offer because she had been stuck on pause in finding a new home for so long. What was love anymore? And if all it brought was emptiness and confusion, did she even want it?
Hardly.
She holds her attention to him a minute longer curious as to what burns in his mind and why she cannot put her thumb on how he feels. But the conversation continues and her attention shifts to follow the bold stallion settle his wings and sigh through his dark lips.
The grey apologizes and Ruth is suddenly very aware of her confusion to what exactly is happening between the lines, and she quickly glances to the unnamed stallion to take in his following expression. There is an understanding between them and despite not knowing what it is our golden mare hopes it snuffs the flame that burns faintly in his otherwise soft eyes.
Our little doe lacks confidence when the energy changes.
Forgive me, I am still familiarizing myself with the concept of the Field.
Brine had been a common-land dweller for years before Ruth had even existed and for an entire year after birth Ruth had learned what life is like without the aid of a community. What Winter is like when food is hard to come by and the winds are so blistering that patches of skin show from ice shards nipping at her coat. And despite all of that, Ruthless still finds the common lands calling to her when life becomes overwhelming or hard and when all else fails, she knows at the very least the common lands will be here with all their familiarity and predictability. Chaos is control.
“Loess,” she repeats trying to remember if the place sifted a memory before following with a more inquisitive intention, “what is it like there?” The palomino had been an adventurer with an intention to see what more was hidden beyond the boundaries of Brine, but as she had aged the motivation to care had slowly diminished into an occasional ring. Like an old friend that had moved away, hardly to visit no matter how often you both insist. “The field is all I know, really.”
"Ruthless," she follows allowing herself to find a small amount of confidence in her voice, "Or Ruth."
Her eyes find him after the brief sentence she is able to spit out, realizing his eyes had come clouded with… Anger? Frustration? And while the poker face may have been able to hold up in silence, his following unamused contribution to the conversation leaves her with undeniable doubt his eyes were a fiery shade of something.
Ruth is ignorant to envy and jealousy, life hadn’t taught her that lesson yet. She had somehow found one heart to beat with and the competition had been nonexistent; the falling part had been easy, like a rock tumbling into beautiful waters instead of wallowing on a cliff edge.
Which only means she is also just as ignorant to being swooned, a mare unaware of the advances the universe had to offer because she had been stuck on pause in finding a new home for so long. What was love anymore? And if all it brought was emptiness and confusion, did she even want it?
Hardly.
She holds her attention to him a minute longer curious as to what burns in his mind and why she cannot put her thumb on how he feels. But the conversation continues and her attention shifts to follow the bold stallion settle his wings and sigh through his dark lips.
The grey apologizes and Ruth is suddenly very aware of her confusion to what exactly is happening between the lines, and she quickly glances to the unnamed stallion to take in his following expression. There is an understanding between them and despite not knowing what it is our golden mare hopes it snuffs the flame that burns faintly in his otherwise soft eyes.
Our little doe lacks confidence when the energy changes.
Forgive me, I am still familiarizing myself with the concept of the Field.
Brine had been a common-land dweller for years before Ruth had even existed and for an entire year after birth Ruth had learned what life is like without the aid of a community. What Winter is like when food is hard to come by and the winds are so blistering that patches of skin show from ice shards nipping at her coat. And despite all of that, Ruthless still finds the common lands calling to her when life becomes overwhelming or hard and when all else fails, she knows at the very least the common lands will be here with all their familiarity and predictability. Chaos is control.
“Loess,” she repeats trying to remember if the place sifted a memory before following with a more inquisitive intention, “what is it like there?” The palomino had been an adventurer with an intention to see what more was hidden beyond the boundaries of Brine, but as she had aged the motivation to care had slowly diminished into an occasional ring. Like an old friend that had moved away, hardly to visit no matter how often you both insist. “The field is all I know, really.”
"Ruthless," she follows allowing herself to find a small amount of confidence in her voice, "Or Ruth."
Ruthless
father x mother or rank
@[Tarian] @[Osiriis]