scylla -----
by anawar out of daenerys
She doesn’t really mind that his eyes wander around the territory. He seems thoughtful, and without his eyes on her, it makes it easier for Scylla to think as well. It’s already obvious to her that this stallion’s culture is unlike any that the islands has seen before, and while it’s definitely strange, she finds herself craving more information about it.
Even when he doesn’t look at her directly when he explains, it doesn’t bother her: it’s the type of thing she’d do. She nods in understanding, no longer taking offense to the foreign word. Her curiosity burns even deeper when she realizes that he could help her with the very conundrum she’d been trying to figure out.
”In that case, I certainly am a basran,” she says, her own eyes wandering in thought. ”I don’t even know my purpose.”
She looks back at the stallion and is surprised to find him looking at her so intently. She’s about to ask if he would be able to help her find her purpose when his accusing words ring in her ears. She doesn’t completely understand what he means (she has a feeling that that’s going to happen a lot with him) but she is loath to let him realize that.
”You’ll have to blame my mother for that one, I guess. She’s the one who gave me the name, after all,” she tells him with a smirk. Her curiousness is turning into a roaring monster inside of her; she has so many questions for him but she doesn’t want him to get annoyed with her.
She longs to know more about this path that he speaks of, but there’s one thing pressing against her brain that needs to be addressed first. ”You know my name but I don’t know yours – what do I call you?”
four - black tobiano - mixed - 15hh |