Meadow

hello hello whilst I work on that picture

The rose-hued horse holds his look when he leers through the lashes of sunlight at her, not much shadow from the staples of trees, with summer-struck thin leaves, limp in the windless morning. Although she stays with a slight simper on the darker colour of her nose, there’s a smile that stings the amber of her eyes when he heralds back to her a question. Tit for tat. Cordula had kept her eyes on him, even as he assessed the arch of the rising sun, but as he says back to her, she switches to staring into the meadows’ horizon.

“Am I awake now?” There’s a teasing in her tone, tail giving a languid twitch, curls of snow and wine brushing her backside, butting to the long lengths of grass that yellows around their tips. “Pinch me,” Cordula is drawling, and not entirely decisive on whether her dare was serious or not. Ears rolling back and eyes itching towards a similar motion marks it as maybe not being an actual invitation, but then again, they were flittering facial expressions and she holds none of the sarcasm in her still relaxed stance. All Cordula actions is shifting one resting shin to the other, the slant of her spine sliding to the opposite side.