here's a handshake, soldier,
'cause we both lost the war.
Svetlana watches the trepidation pass over Blackmore's face and for a moment she wonders if he would deny her request. She nickers encouragingly to the black beast and then a grin sprouts over her lips -- after all, who could say no to our little buckskin lady? He's finally in the water, standing close to Svetlana, and she watches with amber eyes as he slowly relaxes. Of course, she hadn't expected him to splash her, and all of a sudden she's laughing with a face full of saltwater. She tosses her head upwards in hopes to rid her eyes of her soaked forelock, and although she's successful for the most part, a few lingering strands have clung themselves to her face.
She lunges in the direction of Blackmore, her front half slamming back into the water to splash him. Pivoting swiftly (as swiftly as one can in belly deep water), she bounds through the water like a deer bounds through snow. Her laughter is constant and ringing. It's genuine, along with the smile on her face and the glistening in her bright eyes. Water splashes around her as she moves her sleek body through it, soaking the rest of her coat and darkening her for the time being.
She turns around once more to face Blackmore, sticks her muzzle beneath the water's surface, and splashes the stallion as she flings her head upwards. She blinks at him innocently for a moment, until her chest nearly explodes with the laughter she has attempted to contain. She moves again, inching further into the cool ocean water, the waves lapping at her chest, her neck, over her broad back. Now she's floating, swimming, her strong legs kicking to keep her afloat. She extends her neck to keep her flared nostrils above the rolling water before turning back around to face her new liege.
She doesn't expect him to follow her this far, but the gaze in her bright eyes is bright and daring.
S V E T L A N A
female ∙ buckskin ∙ the ridge |