10-27-2018, 06:40 AM
Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside
could have so many ragged holes inside
could have so many ragged holes inside
She’s terrorized, the first one, the one who just stood there. He sees her eyes roll, sees her tensed muscles, so he blinks at her but doesn’t dare move a muscle until she calms down some more. Then, he tilts his head slightly at her as she speaks, she is looking at him so tensely, but she must mean the words for the other mare, because it’s not an answer to his question.
His eyes have the worried glance of someone having stumbled upon perhaps, a wounded horse. She must be wounded on the inside, figuratively then, otherwise she would not have jerked her head so. He hardly registers her polite-enough answer, but nods as the second mare speaks. She doesn’t need to be sorry.
His eyes glance to Eilidh when she introduces herself, and he registers her silver bay colouring with a bit of a smile - it’s a familiar colour, though he has the added roaning to it, and the golden streaks (but those hadn’t been there from birth); almost as if looking through a mirror to his own past. A past where he had a sister with the silver-on-roan-bay colouring. A more recent past when his son was born, silver sooty bay. All in all, there is a subconscious familiarity to her even though he can tell they’re probably not related.
The question she asks is a bit of an odd one, though it is meant for the dark-coloured mare. She reminds him of Briseis, though he doesn’t think that she would like to hear about all his stories right about now. She had a past with, obviously, a stallion who had wronged her in more than just the heart-breaking way, or she would not have reacted to his voice like that. For that alone, he could be sorry, but also slightly annoyed, evident by a more distant look as he almost absentmindedly, flicks his tail in a slightly irritated way. He’d always been one to protect, and to know that someone had damaged another this badly, was enough to make him tense.
But he wasn’t here and the damage had already been done, so he tries not to show too much.
Looking from Eilidh back to the black mare, he carefully chooses a few words to say. ”I’m Leilan. From Nerine.” he says. Admittedly, he adds Nerine purposefully, because he knows it is well-known as more of a female kingdom, and perhaps the idea that he lives with the former Amazons, now Leviathans, could ease her. Them. Knowing she’s wary, he doesn’t move an inch from his spot, either.
Crazy as it sounds maybe in light of the past two years, living with so many sisters, even if he had avoided them as much as he could in his youth, and had spent a few years of his life mainly irritating girls and winning them over; now that he’s more settled down, he knows exactly how to handle a highly emotional girl - with care. But this one is not family, so he doesn’t expect her trust. She has no reason to, so other than that he won’t invite her anywhere, and makes not a single move towards her, he just has to wait.
He can’t very well go offer her to hunt down her wrongdoer, or even just find a place to hide in Nerine, if she doesn’t trust him, he thinks.
Looking to Eilidh briefly, he has nothing to add. Perhaps the black mare is better of with her alone; but they know he is here, now, and even if he left them, they might be afraid he was some scary monster hiding out his chance, so that wasn’t going to work now either, he supposes.
It’s an impasse, for him.
His eyes have the worried glance of someone having stumbled upon perhaps, a wounded horse. She must be wounded on the inside, figuratively then, otherwise she would not have jerked her head so. He hardly registers her polite-enough answer, but nods as the second mare speaks. She doesn’t need to be sorry.
His eyes glance to Eilidh when she introduces herself, and he registers her silver bay colouring with a bit of a smile - it’s a familiar colour, though he has the added roaning to it, and the golden streaks (but those hadn’t been there from birth); almost as if looking through a mirror to his own past. A past where he had a sister with the silver-on-roan-bay colouring. A more recent past when his son was born, silver sooty bay. All in all, there is a subconscious familiarity to her even though he can tell they’re probably not related.
The question she asks is a bit of an odd one, though it is meant for the dark-coloured mare. She reminds him of Briseis, though he doesn’t think that she would like to hear about all his stories right about now. She had a past with, obviously, a stallion who had wronged her in more than just the heart-breaking way, or she would not have reacted to his voice like that. For that alone, he could be sorry, but also slightly annoyed, evident by a more distant look as he almost absentmindedly, flicks his tail in a slightly irritated way. He’d always been one to protect, and to know that someone had damaged another this badly, was enough to make him tense.
But he wasn’t here and the damage had already been done, so he tries not to show too much.
Looking from Eilidh back to the black mare, he carefully chooses a few words to say. ”I’m Leilan. From Nerine.” he says. Admittedly, he adds Nerine purposefully, because he knows it is well-known as more of a female kingdom, and perhaps the idea that he lives with the former Amazons, now Leviathans, could ease her. Them. Knowing she’s wary, he doesn’t move an inch from his spot, either.
Crazy as it sounds maybe in light of the past two years, living with so many sisters, even if he had avoided them as much as he could in his youth, and had spent a few years of his life mainly irritating girls and winning them over; now that he’s more settled down, he knows exactly how to handle a highly emotional girl - with care. But this one is not family, so he doesn’t expect her trust. She has no reason to, so other than that he won’t invite her anywhere, and makes not a single move towards her, he just has to wait.
He can’t very well go offer her to hunt down her wrongdoer, or even just find a place to hide in Nerine, if she doesn’t trust him, he thinks.
Looking to Eilidh briefly, he has nothing to add. Perhaps the black mare is better of with her alone; but they know he is here, now, and even if he left them, they might be afraid he was some scary monster hiding out his chance, so that wasn’t going to work now either, he supposes.
It’s an impasse, for him.
@[Willa] @[Eilidh]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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