Maslakhat is quiet, at least until the lithe mare’s tone warms with teasing, and Ak Burun’s eyes narrow fractionally in amusement. Her interest remains almost totally focused on Kore: sweet slender lady from afar. One wonders, does this flower carry thorns? For she is hardy to have survived such a storm. The sea is not careful when it sweeps horses away, and yet here she is, not a bit bedraggled, not even clouded of eye from painful memory of choking on saltwater and that fine-edged panic of disorientation in the unfamiliar dark.
A hardy bloom, indeed.
"I have called the Dunes home more than once. I am Ak Burun," the Akhal-Teke replies with a genteel smile. "Clearly your travels have not wilted you in the least; welcome." She steps back a pace and gestures to the oasis with her white nose before her gaze slides to the stallion draped in gold. And so the kingdom grows, she thinks as her smiles widens, just a bit, at Maslakhat standing so stoic in the night.
"My sister’s scent no longer lingers on these sands," she informs him as she allows her expression to fade and fall into a frown. "Worry for her keeps sleep from me." False. Ak Burun hasn’t slept fretfully since she escaped her brother’s keeping, especially not over something so trivial as another horse. She allows a hint of concern to color her voice, but perhaps more genuine is the faint note of irritation behind her words. She hears it and amends, regretfully, "I should not have stayed away from Salem as long as I did." |