03-22-2016, 02:22 PM
War did not call her out from the field; his offer to visit him is what tempts her to a trot, to hesitation as she nears a fork in the trail that smells all too familiar - the Dale, and her temper ignites to an inferno inside her as she balks at the branching path that will take towards his land and right by the edges of the kingdom in which she was born. Blood calls to blood, and her bloodline is tangled up in the rocky reaches of the Dale.
She stands for a long time at the fork in the road, burning so brightly inside that it hurts to breathe until she shakes the memories from her mind and the hate recedes to brim just beneath the surface of her tovero skin. Riva then moves towards the plains that glimmer like their name - golden, of course - in the distance and her step is forceful in its determination to carry her straight passed the Dale without a further thought towards it.
(Riva will give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he has no association with the kingdom she spurns, but a tiny part of her knows that he must share some counsel with them since they oversee his smaller land and for that, she could bite him for his omission.)
The tovero smells blood the moment she enters the plains and halts; her head lifts to sniff out the particularities that cloud the air - stallion, blood, water, war, and a mix of mares that she ignores. It was the stallion, blood, and war that beckoned to her and she licked her lips as she moved deeper into his land. Riva does not have to go far; she finds him in the water, a mare crying over the ruin that war has made of him and Riva nearly rolls her eyes - she has no sympathy for him, he fought and has the wounds to prove his might and mettle and for just an instant, she thinks a little more highly of him as she comes to a halt well outside of the water in which the mare and the stallion stand in. “He’ll heal,” is all that she says as the mare fusses over him; her eyes are drawn to the little swirls of feather and blood and fur that eddy around the pair that look like such a disgustingly sweet picture of something Riva wants no part of. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she mutters, shaking her head and moving away from them towards the plains.
It is plain to see that Riva is miffed at the stallion and all because he failed to tell her that his land lay under the shadow of the Dale, and she begins to wonder (which is a novelty for her!) if his allegiance does too… It makes her hate flare up in her, but it doesn’t show beyond the way her eyes burn in her hollowed out face as she moves through the tall golden grass.
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