Volpe
"Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.
That is our great glory, and our great tragedy."
Women were such strange creatures. Though she shared with them her body and her emotions, finding that somewhere deep down all women should have been alike in the most simple of ways, but instead they were apt to hiss and spit at each other, reaching over continents and oceans to scratch out each others' eyes. For some, it was all sport- the thrill of the chase and the apparent need to feed some predatory instinct that was only in their minds; for others it was a way of life, a life that meant they would have no friends, lest there should be the slightest inkling of malice or spite that would ignite a passionate struggle over something that was reputedly less than desireable.
Volpe had not come here to seduce or otherwise infatuate herself with the blue-grey stallion that had briefly frolicked betwixt her loins, only to see what sort of an empire he had built for himself under the great blue sky and along the edge of an ocean full of salt and waves.
The pale woman has the eyes of a creature wary of all things that cross her path, and as the red rolls back her ears, the moonchild of the crossing reads this as hostility, inching backwards away from the blimp-like mare. The assumption was that the heavily pregnant mare, was not entirely incapacitated by her enormous size, and perhaps was either intimidated, insulted, or otherwise irritated by the presence of the perlino, leaving this to be the logic that spills through Volpe's head and makes her inch away, planning to make for the sea and never return. It only seemed to her that this land was currently inhabited by a protective viper of a woman that would probably sooner run off the mare with the smallest swell in her blanched belly, only to starve her or harm her.
This was no paradise, this was a cold, barren wasteland that did not deserve the eyes of the star-daughter of Sova.
As the strange mare suddenly turns from being stand off-ish to suspiciously curious as to Volpe's reasoning for arriving here on her snow-sodden sores, there is a shiver of moment in the trees, and there appears the stallion with skin like the sky. His blank face makes him almost unrecognizable, and it is now that the perlino surmises she must have been mistaken. Perhaps she had head the name of this land wrong only shortly before tumbling in the hay with him, and this was just another trick played by this hellish snowpit. “I think I am mistaken...” She muses, staring barely wide-eyed at the stallion, still shirking away from the pair. Her suspicions of the mare had only been solidified with the way she rubs against the blue male like a cat in heat, despite having already been impregnated (either by him or some other companion of the harsher sexe), and Volpe feels that she has fallen into a trap once more. She imagines that this was the vicious fate that she suspected awaited for her in the bushes behind her and Laurel where they had first met, and the thought frightens her.
Leaning away from the two, she begins to turn, first slowly, keeping an eye on both horses as she does so. “... mistaken or lost.” The perlino does not know what to do. Running would be silly, as he steps would be hindered by the high snow here, and certainly the natives to this land would only be naturals as sprinting across the snow. What frightened her most was that she could not read the blank look smeared across the stallion's face. |
