07-05-2016, 03:29 PM
Her negligence is inexcusable. What can she say?
There is no excuse offered for her lack of being known around the Jungle.
Still, it does not refuse her entrance as she takes the same trail that she had followed the iron-gray mare down a while ago. But nor does it greet her; she can spot the gleam of gold in a jaguar’s eye in the branches above as it stalks her from on high, and she can hear the call of toucans to one another, and monkeys laugh from a cut in the growing green of thriving Jungle. War did little to scar her but it did enough, and Riva can see where the kingdom is still recovering from the attempts to burn her down. How could she ever leave this place? She knows now that she cannot, only for those short stints of time in the Plains with the stallion but she has since left his herd, too mean to reside amongst his lovesick bimbos who only had babies on the brain.
(Of course she’ll never forget that stallion either, he makes her temper flare in a way she cannot explain and does not. She’ll encounter him again, it’s already written in the stars, in an ill-fated chance to recruit in the field for Queen and glory.)
Riva has made two attempts to recruit now, to restore the Jungle to a more rousing volume of life besides that of the typical denizens that call it home - the cats and the birds and the pesky monkeys in the trees that often throw their dung at her in passing. Riva will bite the next damned monkey that crosses her path, she avows this as she picks her way down the trail, beyond the river swollen with the monsoon-like rains of Spring and crocodiles, their toothsome grins a promise of tearing out her throat and innards for fat happy meals to fill their scaly bellies. She grins back at them, flicking her tail in a flagging taunt of catch me if you can, but they never will unless she grows careless around the river and her tricksome sides that give way to mudslides in these times. She watched a tapir go to it’s death that way the other day, and figures some reptile smiled at the prospect of an easy lunch the river spat at him.
She remembers how Lagertha talked of oaths and tattoos, and she is curious about these things in few ways that Riva is hardly curious. It is not hard to find the Queen, she is often in the same place, deep in thought - of what, the paint mare does not guess at, for it is above her to know what things a Queen thinks about. “Lagertha,” she says by way of greeting. “No, the few times there, I did not.” she admits to the gray mare, not afraid at all to voice her displeasure of the dualities of kingdom and herd, and how it simply did not work out for her. “It was entirely too dissatisfying and he was too preoccupied with his ties to his kingdom, his mares, and the making of babies.” Of which she certainly did not participate in! The mere thought of popping something out of her loins was rather comical because she could not see how someone as motherless and abandoned as she had been, could possibly get it right when it came to raising a baby.
She was unaware of the face she was making, one of possible horror before she snorted and shook the expression away. “Anyway,” she says rather offhandedly. “Been a while, eh? Looked around for a bit, learning the Jungle, learning how boring a herd can be, and the like. What have you been up to?” Riva, silly Riva, is probably the only one to act so casually around the Queen, like she was never there for almost two years? Hell, she doesn’t even know how long she’s been gone for or why. She just knows she is home now, happily (a lie, but she’ll tell it all the same for Lagertha’s sake) recruiting in the Field, and hoping the Jungle doesn’t eat her while she eats, sleeps, or takes a drink from a puddle in a clearing where nothing harmful could possibly get her - except the snake slithering rather suspiciously through the grass over there…. Okay Riva, come back to earth now, the Jungle won’t eat you since the big bad Queen is here.
There is no excuse offered for her lack of being known around the Jungle.
Still, it does not refuse her entrance as she takes the same trail that she had followed the iron-gray mare down a while ago. But nor does it greet her; she can spot the gleam of gold in a jaguar’s eye in the branches above as it stalks her from on high, and she can hear the call of toucans to one another, and monkeys laugh from a cut in the growing green of thriving Jungle. War did little to scar her but it did enough, and Riva can see where the kingdom is still recovering from the attempts to burn her down. How could she ever leave this place? She knows now that she cannot, only for those short stints of time in the Plains with the stallion but she has since left his herd, too mean to reside amongst his lovesick bimbos who only had babies on the brain.
(Of course she’ll never forget that stallion either, he makes her temper flare in a way she cannot explain and does not. She’ll encounter him again, it’s already written in the stars, in an ill-fated chance to recruit in the field for Queen and glory.)
Riva has made two attempts to recruit now, to restore the Jungle to a more rousing volume of life besides that of the typical denizens that call it home - the cats and the birds and the pesky monkeys in the trees that often throw their dung at her in passing. Riva will bite the next damned monkey that crosses her path, she avows this as she picks her way down the trail, beyond the river swollen with the monsoon-like rains of Spring and crocodiles, their toothsome grins a promise of tearing out her throat and innards for fat happy meals to fill their scaly bellies. She grins back at them, flicking her tail in a flagging taunt of catch me if you can, but they never will unless she grows careless around the river and her tricksome sides that give way to mudslides in these times. She watched a tapir go to it’s death that way the other day, and figures some reptile smiled at the prospect of an easy lunch the river spat at him.
She remembers how Lagertha talked of oaths and tattoos, and she is curious about these things in few ways that Riva is hardly curious. It is not hard to find the Queen, she is often in the same place, deep in thought - of what, the paint mare does not guess at, for it is above her to know what things a Queen thinks about. “Lagertha,” she says by way of greeting. “No, the few times there, I did not.” she admits to the gray mare, not afraid at all to voice her displeasure of the dualities of kingdom and herd, and how it simply did not work out for her. “It was entirely too dissatisfying and he was too preoccupied with his ties to his kingdom, his mares, and the making of babies.” Of which she certainly did not participate in! The mere thought of popping something out of her loins was rather comical because she could not see how someone as motherless and abandoned as she had been, could possibly get it right when it came to raising a baby.
She was unaware of the face she was making, one of possible horror before she snorted and shook the expression away. “Anyway,” she says rather offhandedly. “Been a while, eh? Looked around for a bit, learning the Jungle, learning how boring a herd can be, and the like. What have you been up to?” Riva, silly Riva, is probably the only one to act so casually around the Queen, like she was never there for almost two years? Hell, she doesn’t even know how long she’s been gone for or why. She just knows she is home now, happily (a lie, but she’ll tell it all the same for Lagertha’s sake) recruiting in the Field, and hoping the Jungle doesn’t eat her while she eats, sleeps, or takes a drink from a puddle in a clearing where nothing harmful could possibly get her - except the snake slithering rather suspiciously through the grass over there…. Okay Riva, come back to earth now, the Jungle won’t eat you since the big bad Queen is here.
ooc: Riva is entirely way too comfortable with Lagertha and utterly ridiculous in this post lol. <3