04-28-2018, 09:42 AM
“Don’t lecture me on politics,” Lepis snaps back, emboldened by her own continued existence in the presence of a creature who, if the stories were true, should have chewed her up and spat her out long ago. He hasn’t hurt Lepis yet (at least, not with anything heavier than accusations). ”You clearly don’t know anything.”
At that, she looks away from Mortem, her dark blue nose held high.
A cold breeze averts a full blown lecture in response to the declaration that cements his lack of knowledge to the young mare. Lepis tucks her head down to her chest where the wind is not so bitter. Though autumn still has a hold on Beqanna (Lepis can feel that in the constant hum of her blood), winter is clearly coming soon.
She has never been truly cold before. Even in winter, the hot springs boiled. They heated the air around them too, and Lepis’ favorite was the cave where a small spring bubbled. The whole place was perpetually humid, and great icicles built up around the mouth of the cave, sometimes so thick that Lepis had to kick her way through them every morning.
No one will clear them, she realizes with a sudden clarity. She hadn’t told Arthas and there is no one else to do it. Wallowing in memory has allowed her to miss most of the king’s chatter. She returns just as he tells her that she was an offering, an object traded between kingdoms.
She blinks.
Then she tilts her head, blinks again, and shrugs.
”Arthas used the word ‘gift’ when he told me to come, though I suppose offering was more of hat he intended.” The exchange of bodies is not a new one; it is not even an evil one. Just now, in the opposite corner of Beqanna, two kingdoms are confirming the details of their child exchange. Those are meant to be temporary, of course, and Lepis was a forever sort of offering. She knows what is expected of her as a female gift, and is also grateful that she had not been quite old enough to fulfill her obligations this year.
Arthas has told her that Modicum Mortem will want her for himself, and so she has every to think the dappled stallion will arrive as soon. ”When you are of age.” He’d said. When you can bear me children, is what he’d meant. Lepis has convinced herself in the weeks since her arrival that raising children is an honorable position in life. It’s the best that most princesses could hope for: that some dashing stallion will keep her safe, or so Mother has always said.
She’s of an age now, she supposes, though the heat of autumn has almost faded. The young perlino mare shivers again as a brisk wind gusts past, and she sidles closer rkvMortem as though oblivious to the fire in his eyes. At least there is warmth near fire, she thinks as she tucks her small shoulder beside his and presses the curve of her hip to his.
Lepis doesn’t have a name for the emotion she summons, but the closest is lust. Lepis is more careful with the power than her Mother was, rather than simply dousing a target with emotion, she’d rather let it build.
Empathic projection, Mother had called it. Useful in all situations and best if left a secret. Even Arthas doesn’t know about her trait; she might have told him were she not sent to Sylva instead.
She uses it for a brief moment, the same instant that she presses her pale side against his. As is frequent, the same sensation is felt by the navy-maned horse, and she catches her breath sharply and leaps away from Mortem as though she has been burned.
She gives him a firm and determined glare, and adds: ”You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Have you never run a kingdom before? You need my help rather desperately, it seems. I might be inclined to help.” Lepis pauses and looks out at forest that has turned black around them, and then lets the pause continue, waiting for Mortem to reply.
hello so this post got much longer than i anticipated, my bad.
the summary is Lepis is basically super rude back, then gets cold/uses it as an excuse to get closer to morty and use her empathic projection. it can affect him or not, whatever you prefer. then she continues to be super rude, basically.
At that, she looks away from Mortem, her dark blue nose held high.
A cold breeze averts a full blown lecture in response to the declaration that cements his lack of knowledge to the young mare. Lepis tucks her head down to her chest where the wind is not so bitter. Though autumn still has a hold on Beqanna (Lepis can feel that in the constant hum of her blood), winter is clearly coming soon.
She has never been truly cold before. Even in winter, the hot springs boiled. They heated the air around them too, and Lepis’ favorite was the cave where a small spring bubbled. The whole place was perpetually humid, and great icicles built up around the mouth of the cave, sometimes so thick that Lepis had to kick her way through them every morning.
No one will clear them, she realizes with a sudden clarity. She hadn’t told Arthas and there is no one else to do it. Wallowing in memory has allowed her to miss most of the king’s chatter. She returns just as he tells her that she was an offering, an object traded between kingdoms.
She blinks.
Then she tilts her head, blinks again, and shrugs.
”Arthas used the word ‘gift’ when he told me to come, though I suppose offering was more of hat he intended.” The exchange of bodies is not a new one; it is not even an evil one. Just now, in the opposite corner of Beqanna, two kingdoms are confirming the details of their child exchange. Those are meant to be temporary, of course, and Lepis was a forever sort of offering. She knows what is expected of her as a female gift, and is also grateful that she had not been quite old enough to fulfill her obligations this year.
Arthas has told her that Modicum Mortem will want her for himself, and so she has every to think the dappled stallion will arrive as soon. ”When you are of age.” He’d said. When you can bear me children, is what he’d meant. Lepis has convinced herself in the weeks since her arrival that raising children is an honorable position in life. It’s the best that most princesses could hope for: that some dashing stallion will keep her safe, or so Mother has always said.
She’s of an age now, she supposes, though the heat of autumn has almost faded. The young perlino mare shivers again as a brisk wind gusts past, and she sidles closer rkvMortem as though oblivious to the fire in his eyes. At least there is warmth near fire, she thinks as she tucks her small shoulder beside his and presses the curve of her hip to his.
Lepis doesn’t have a name for the emotion she summons, but the closest is lust. Lepis is more careful with the power than her Mother was, rather than simply dousing a target with emotion, she’d rather let it build.
Empathic projection, Mother had called it. Useful in all situations and best if left a secret. Even Arthas doesn’t know about her trait; she might have told him were she not sent to Sylva instead.
She uses it for a brief moment, the same instant that she presses her pale side against his. As is frequent, the same sensation is felt by the navy-maned horse, and she catches her breath sharply and leaps away from Mortem as though she has been burned.
She gives him a firm and determined glare, and adds: ”You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Have you never run a kingdom before? You need my help rather desperately, it seems. I might be inclined to help.” Lepis pauses and looks out at forest that has turned black around them, and then lets the pause continue, waiting for Mortem to reply.
hello so this post got much longer than i anticipated, my bad.
the summary is Lepis is basically super rude back, then gets cold/uses it as an excuse to get closer to morty and use her empathic projection. it can affect him or not, whatever you prefer. then she continues to be super rude, basically.
