Oona
The mare of charcoal and rose follows her new companion. He moves with enthusiasm and Oona can feel the excitement saturate her despite the tight lipped face she held.
It is not that she does not have emotions. Everyone has them but she woman holds those vulnerabilities close. The hazel pools drifting over the different landmarks as she moves near his flank. Her eyes shifting away to study the graying stag.
Some where in her there is a pique of curiosity for the male. She finds herself liking his energy, his smile. He is genuine and true and not like most of those she has encountered in her life. He does not nip nor strike at her. He just talks and talks and talks.
He fills the space between them with words and sing-song tales. He speaks fluidly where as the rose gray's is stone. Oona finds herself enjoying the tying of syllables he spurns. The vocals weaving in and out and around her, making those peaks atop her skull wiggle and waltz.
When he slows and she closes the gap between their bodies, he looks to her and the Warmblood can not help but feel the curl of her lips betraying the usually stoic features. Brynmor is controlling the very edges of her lips but Oona does not fight it. There was not sense to fight anymore for she has been invited into a home. She is safe and sound.
"It is rather charming." The tones are low and hushed as she speaks only to him. Like the wash of cool drink of water on a humid, hot day is such a way she speaks to the granite male. "Thank you for inviting me to your home, Brynmor."
She moves her tiara closer to his and bumps him gently with her poll, playfully...breaking free from the iron cast that seemed to encase her.
There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'