Common

she wanted him to find her alluring. she wanted him to look at her, eyes heavy with lust. what were women useful for, if not to look at and collect like dolls on a shelf? of course, she didn't actually think that. that was just how most men functioned: they saw the pretty thing, they took the pretty thing, and they brought it back to their home like barbaric cavemen (even if she was kicking and screaming all the way back). there was a certain power in knowing that you were coveted, that you could use it to your advantage; pulling and tugging on that fickle thread of desire until they had no choice but to give in.

temptation was a dangerous tool when used by the right hands.

she can't say she was surprised that he didn't immediately try and force her back to his lands. there were men who preferred to charm, who preferred to think that their prey would fall easily onto their laps and roll over on command. she always played the part; she would bat her ivory lashes and smile her most coy smile before she'd find the exact strand to pull, the one thread that would send them unraveling.

even now, she lowers her gaze demurely and lets the corners of her lips curl sweetly for him to see. he was the first, however, to ask her a question that did not involve some lewd humor or crude intention. she blinks back her surprise before she answers him honestly. "i have no place to call home, roheryn, and so i wander." her voice feels sticky and sweet like honey.

he presses to her side, providing some comfort in the rattling cold, and she, in turn, presses her shoulder to his. for once, she wants to believe that his kindness is genuine. for once, she wants to believe this is not some misogynist trick to lure her into his clutches. "are you from here?"

five years. spanish mustang. gold cream champagne dun sabino. fifteen hands. of nowhere.

"...speech"