Common

Body language is universal, and Satur is quite fluent. When the stallion comes snaking through the dying sunlight, his curled ears upright with interest and his golden eyes hungry, she met his gaze with a grin. Her own ears, cupped and without the same dramatic curve, flatten into her thick black mane. Saturnalia’s hair is long and neatly kept, falling dramatically down her craned neck. The mare tenses up and throws a kick toward him, a flirting formality, truly. She skirts away from him but doesn’t move too far, spinning around to blow a snort, a smile faintly on her onyx lips. Her blue eyes keep with him, watching him for more. It is a dance, after all.

There isn’t time for him to waltz back though, the grace of a perfect claim is interrupted. The black mare steps back at the approach of another stallion, eyeing him as she did the first one, drinking in his colors, shape, smell, anything she can in just a few seconds. In a small burst of mock protest she arches her withers into a half-rear, a squeal and a strike of one of her front hooves betrays her rather ‘fiery’ disposition. Truth be told, despite her outward appearance of detest, she couldn’t be happier at how quickly she caught a few fish! She fights the urge to laugh at her own monologue, successfully keeping her mischievous grin.

Suddenly the roan’s words slice through the primal quiet. Saturnalia laughs, and not necessarily with the roan, maybe even at him. She doesn’t add a bit of her own wit, though she does want to, she’ll wait on that. Her pale eyes move to the first stallion, curious as to what he might have to say in return to such an idle jab. What fun we’re having already.