stock by visibreIt's with polite curiosity that Encantador regards his lead mare as she shifts to stand directly in front of him. Her words, when she speaks, are ominous and worrying initially; automatically his brows knit together and a slight frown tugs as the corners of his mouth. It strikes him then how formidable El Aran can be when she wants to; with the churning, angry sea and grey sky behind her, the black tendrils of her hair whipping all around her face, and her dark eyes shining with passion, she's quite a sight. For a distracting moment, he has to suppress a smirk. El Aran: beautiful and terrifying, like the lands she was born in.
It's only when she carries on and explains that Soraya had known his name that Encantador's features relax and he shifts his weight, sighing. He almost laughs at the ridiculous of it all, but restrains himself just in time. She's taking this too seriously, but it wouldn't do to mock her. Patiently, he waits for her to finish, his brown eyes regarding her with a secretive glimmer; when she has, his face is a picture of concern and incredulity. "Well," he begins, and bites his lower lip as he considers how best to phrase his words.
"That is odd that she'd know your name. But... when I met her, she seemed perfectly harmless and polite. And she would know my name, because I told her." He lifts one brow at El Aran. "And, I'm pretty sure she and Mellow went off together; I asked him to escort her to find you while Debonaire, Razvan, and I discussed some business. Perhaps he mentioned your name on the way there." He takes a moment to sigh again and gaze out onto the waves. The sky is darkening, promising rain, and the winds are growing ever brisker. We'll need to move inland soon.
"In any case, Mellow's gone now, Razvan's dead, and I haven't seen Soraya again since that day. Have you?" He looks at her pointedly, already anticipating the answer. "I don't see what sort of threat she could be to us... but if she made you uncomfortable, I'll keep an eye out for her." His expression softens in a manner that suggests the end of that conversation, and he steps forward to nibble affectionately at her tangled mane. "You've seemed tense, lately, El Aran. Have you been sleeping well?"
five; dunskin; mustang; 15.1hh; el barroco x writhe; by shiva E N C A N T A D O R lead of the salem desert
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