Common

VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

If Valka had been baffled before, she was utterly bewildered now.

Insanity. That was the only explanation that the fluffy mare could find for this place and its people. Their actions were mad, their customs were mad - and if Valka had to guess, she would venture that their gods were likely certified crazy as well. In her time on this earth, the mealy chestnut had learned that a people could be judged and understood by their actions. All that she had learned here was that nothing was certain. Mares were subservient and yet they were not. Stallions appeared to co-exist peacefully, yet there was an undercurrent of tension from which one could discern that they were on the verge of breaking out into war. And this boy...he behaved as a king, but red-striped woman did not treat him with the respect a ruler was due. No, this wasn’t simple madness, the Yakut decided as she watched the pair appear to bicker or disagree or whatever they wanted to call it. This was anarchy. These creatures’ gods weren’t crazy - instead it seemed they had no gods to turn to and thus turned on each other instead.

It was almost enough to make Valka wish that she had fallen off the edge of the world.

”Psikh,” the diminutive mare spat, shaking her shaggy head in agitation. The adolescent male seemed annoyed as well, though probably not for the same reason. Of course, his tense posture may have been born of possessiveness instead of discomfort at the newcomer's close proximity. She had witnessed such posturing already amongst some of the other stallions after they were the first to approach a mare. She supposed that meant that she belonged to this boy now, but the possession of her being did not assure the polinitsa’s devotion. While she had been chosen to protect her previous king, the Yakut had likewise chosen to protect him. A king without respect quickly found himself absent his shield.

So far, she had seen nothing from the greying stallion to indicate that he was worthy of her allegiance (though neither had he proved himself to be unworthy). The striped mare, on the other hand - Valka was trying to determine if she was fearless, or simply a fool. Either way, the Yakut was surprised to find herself thinking that she might have made a worthy sovereign to shield...if she had been born a male. Well, in the sense that she appeared to have more purpose than those whom Valka had observed thus far. But perhaps it was unfair to judge the boy at this time - while he was not so far behind the shorter mare he’d claimed in years, it was evident from the moments his confidence had briefly faltered that he did not have quite the benefit of experience that Valka did.

Oh, was he talking again? The Yakut flicked her ears forward to better catch the strange syllables. Again, none held meaning to her - but one particular pair had been spoken when he’d first approached Valka, and now repeated after their new companion arrived. Ironclad. Was it his name? Even in her mind, the syllables were difficult to repeat, so Valka did not venture an attempt out loud just yet. But if they had moved past the nonsense and on to sharing formalities - well, she was keen to continue things moving along in any direction at all. ”Valka.” the stout mare stated without embellishment. Then, tilting her head up in the direction of the taller mare, she waited expectantly.