11-12-2015, 09:56 PM
Though she’s aware of the other horses around her, Djinni makes no attempt to contact them. She is not particularly desirous of conversation, but when the green mare steps up to greet her Djinni still offers her a soft smile. She glances down at the compliment for only a moment – she knows how to take a compliment without appearing too incredibly vain – and smiles again, more genuinely, at the following statement.
“I don’t mind at all,” she says, her voice husky but not at all unkind.
For a while they are both quiet, and Djinni realizes that she has stopped her pacing to stand beside the green mare. She follows Astri’s gaze across the water, seeing for the first time the bright eyes of the resting loon. It looks as alone as Astri has pointed out Djinni is, but the tobiano mare suspects that there is a passel of nestlings resting beneath the waterbird’s speckled body. There is a foal nearby, she realizes, and when she turns back to listen to Astri, the half-familiar smell of warm child and milk make it obvious that the child she smells likely belongs to the green mare. It is not visible though, and Djinni wonders if perhaps it is asleep somewhere out in the shadows.
“Yes,” she replies to Astri’s question, and as she nods her head in accompaniment to the answer color is rippling across her skin. The red fades to a smoky dun and her flaxen mane and tail darkens to black. She is shrinking as she does so as well, returning to her svelte figure rather than the bulky warmblood physique. The bracelets on her ankles clink softly, adjusting themselves to her changing size. “This is the real me.” She says when she is herself again, and her smiles is somewhat more mischievous than it was on the plain-faced chestnut paint. “And you? Are you always green?”
“I don’t mind at all,” she says, her voice husky but not at all unkind.
For a while they are both quiet, and Djinni realizes that she has stopped her pacing to stand beside the green mare. She follows Astri’s gaze across the water, seeing for the first time the bright eyes of the resting loon. It looks as alone as Astri has pointed out Djinni is, but the tobiano mare suspects that there is a passel of nestlings resting beneath the waterbird’s speckled body. There is a foal nearby, she realizes, and when she turns back to listen to Astri, the half-familiar smell of warm child and milk make it obvious that the child she smells likely belongs to the green mare. It is not visible though, and Djinni wonders if perhaps it is asleep somewhere out in the shadows.
“Yes,” she replies to Astri’s question, and as she nods her head in accompaniment to the answer color is rippling across her skin. The red fades to a smoky dun and her flaxen mane and tail darkens to black. She is shrinking as she does so as well, returning to her svelte figure rather than the bulky warmblood physique. The bracelets on her ankles clink softly, adjusting themselves to her changing size. “This is the real me.” She says when she is herself again, and her smiles is somewhat more mischievous than it was on the plain-faced chestnut paint. “And you? Are you always green?”
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster