Meadow

Rivaini

The tension beneath her copper skin increased with each stride that brought the stranger closer, until Rivaini's muscles were coiled as tightly as a viper preparing to strike. That she did not crave any company had been clearly etched in every line of her expression - yet the black mare had chosen to ignore these warnings and persist with her approach. Nor did the dark eyes that regarded Rivaini provided no clues as to why; they were unfathomable and impassive. By comparison, the silver bay's eyes - blue like Iscariot's, but a more vibrant shade - were cold and implacable and not at all difficult to read.

Go. They seemed to say. I do not know you - and I have no wish to.

Under different circumstances, Rivaini have welcomed the opportunity to speak with a stranger - to exchange stories and ideas. Was it only recently that she had been an indomitable spirit, exhilarated at the prospect of adventure as she stood beside Iscariot on the shores of her home? It felt like an eternity ago. The henna mare had aged years in the days that had followed her solitary arrival; innocence and hope had been replaced by bitterness and doubt. For that reason she did not relent when the sable mare spoke her brother's name; her icy eyes skeptical and the downward twist of her dark lips unchanged. Only Rivaini's ears gave lie to the apparent apathy of her expression; they emerged from the ivory tangle of her mane in small degrees like timid creatures seeking to assure themselves that no danger lurked nearby.

"Is it customary in this land, to taunt outsiders with the names of loved ones that they have lost?" The silver bay had intended to speak the words with venom, but the fire had become ash, and her speech sounded as numb and empty as she felt inside. She should never have mentioned her brother to that trio of stallions, one of whom was undoubtedly seeking to lure her into their harem with empty promises. On a sudden stroke of inspiration, however, Rivaini continued, the lie falling easily from her lips. "Iscariot was my brother - a stallion as black and unblemished as you are. But he is dead - so unless you are offering to kill me, the reunion you speak of is impossible." Her skull tips to one side in a barely-perceptible motion, as if daring the other woman to make such an attempt on her life.

Wounded though her heart may be, Rivaini was no more ready to join her ancestors than she was to surrender her freedom to the whims of some stallion. Any who sought to rob the young mare of either would find themselves an outlet for the tumult of Rivaini's emotions. The Andalusian even found that she welcomed the thought of such release, though she had never taken pleasure in violence before. It was but one of the many ways that grief had changed her. When the pain you experienced was that overwhelming, you seized any opportunity to lessen its burden - even if it meant pushing a piece of it off onto another living creature.

mare / five / silver bay tobiano / andalusian mix / 15.3hh