She’s no worse for wear from the swim, physically. From the events before the swim, the wounds were tucked away carefully, and doing a good job healing already. Such was the power of youth, after all. The damage to her peace of mind? That was another story entirely. Mirage would romanticize her own story until it made sense. Until it sat right in her head. She would eventually learn how to cope, and learn how to handle herself. Until then? Until then she would pretend. The grandest pretender of them all.
Amusement flickered in her eyes-- at least he had jokes. Mirage plays herself off as something that’s far easier to impress than usual. A character, even. She was playing a character, and playing it well. If she allows herself to look softer, more reactive, more feminine, she’d have a better chance of surviving out here. She’d have a better chance of finding shelter. Be what a man wants. Mirage had her good looks on her side, at least.
Crossing isle. She’d seen the other islands, the smaller islands, on her way in. An archipelago of sorts, though the true magic of this place is lost on her yet. Talk of desperation brings a wry smile to play on her lips for just a moment. A glimmer in her eye matches it-- it’s so hard to pretend to be demure when your heart is rakish. Mirage supposed that being both wasn’t the worst thing.
Are you desperate? The question came, and Mirage’s pulse picked up in her chest. She couldn’t fight back the smile, not now. Her ears flickered forward, gaze playing on Rafe’s face. “Never desperate, it’s unbecoming,” the words were soft on her lips, “are you?” It seemed like a fair play, after all, teasing back. It’s a dance, a give and take. Mirage’s gaze was soft, playful. The smile that danced on her lips colored her words. The girl was shorter, and she subtly shifted her posture to appear smaller in the moment as well. Any charm she could bring to the moment, after all.
“Hmm, and would you be inclined to save a girl from the fate of a wrong king, Rafe, king of the Badlands?” She drags his name through her lips, a bit of daring in her voice. The champagne mare savors the taste of his name in her mouth. A moment of daring strikes the spotted creature, and she can’t help herself. “I’m Mirage, future queen of the Badlands.” In her world, it was only men that held lands. This wasn’t a threat to take anything from him, no. This was a daring play, looking up at the stallion through long eyelashes.
we’re dressed in black from head to toe
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