here's a handshake, soldier,
'cause we both lost the war.
She needn't wait long, perhaps a pleasantry when it came to invading the territory of a wary stallion, before she's approached by a handsome looking man with a rather gaunt face. His fatigue is the first thing she notices, his muscles the second. His wariness of her is telltale on his face, and for a moment her lips part in confusion, until it dawns on her that she most likely still reeks of Blackmore and the Ridge. Svetlana's lips twist into an apologetic smile, her neck extending to mirror the darker stallion's actions. Her flared nostrils inhale deeply, taking in his musky scent, her ears turned towards him in obvious intrigue. After satisfying her curiosity, our buckskin lady recoils her head, shifting her weight so that she may cock a hip and rest the tip of a hind hoof on the earth beneath her. "Hello... My name is Svetlana."
She pauses politely, giving the stallion a moment to respond if he wishes to. When she speaks again, her voice is soft -- softer than she would normally speak, sweeter than Svetlana liked to be -- and her bright amber eyes do not falter from the stallion's. "I've come from the Ridge. The stallion I lived beneath -- with -- took an untimely leave." She shifts her weight in a physical display of her annoyance and disappointment with the whole situation, her apologetic smile turning into a truthful grin as her next words fall from her lips. "And I'm not terribly fond of twiddling my thumbs in the mingle lands while I wait for the vultures to descend." She's silent now, her intentions now out in the open despite not having directly voiced them. She watches the stallion in front of her, more closely, perhaps, than would seem acceptable for a first meeting, but she can't help but wonder what had his face thin and his eyes heavy with fatigue.
She resists the urge to ask him, ever the Nosy Nancy, and bites her tongue to keep quiet.
S V E T L A N A
female ∙ buckskin ∙ the ridge |