Falls

She should have known he’d spot her little tricks from a mile away. He slips around her well-set landmines with ease, as if she’d left them carelessly out in the open, the opaque mask of her innocent demeanor fading to gossamer beneath his scrutiny. True to Minthe’s suspicions, this stallion is no shrinking violet, nor so inexperienced he can’t see the barbed hook dangling tantalizingly in front of him for what it truly is: a one-way path to suffering.

Mercurial and vain, Minthe still wonders if he’s worth the trouble and the extra work - but then he speaks, applying his own subtle pressure in the way that he moves incrementally closer. Something in her spine unfurls, stretching greedy tendrils out towards him. Perhaps he likes a bit of suffering, a heaping of spice mixed with a dash of sweetness. Heat kept things interesting, kept men hungry, kept them eager and pliable like soft clay beneath her nimble fingers. He makes his own luck, he says, and Minthe reads between the lines and hears in the dark spaces there a willingness to put in the work for what he desires most. Her lithe body turns slowly in the water, angling mostly parallel to his, and she takes a small step forward, incrementally shortening the distance between them.

“You must know, then,” she says, sidelong gaze flashing briefly over him, “about the effort it takes to do so… and how quickly one’s luck can still change.” Minthe stirs the surface of the water once more, watching the ripples spread out towards the shore. “Even with the best of intentions.”

The red damsel sighs. “I suppose that’s why perfection is so fleeting,” she murmurs, her tones cashmere-soft and wistful. “It takes a certain type of soul to appreciate it.” Perfection - true perfection, real perfection, lofty and unattainable - took work in and of itself to even imitate, much less uphold, just as it took work to turn the tides in one’s own favor. Minthe needs someone to fully appreciate that, someone to recognize the sweat, blood, and tears she would gladly pour into the right suitor, given a reason to do so. She knows her value: she is a treasure, a priceless asset, and deserves someone who can recognize her worth and not grow complacent once they set the glittering jewel of her loyalty in their gilded crown. If he can keep her, she will give him everything… but Minthe, always looking for the next step up, is not an easy mare to keep.

Of all the stallions she’s met, though, this one seems most promising. Perhaps not the most malleable, or the most desperate, or even the most interested, but the one who might be able to hold his grip upon her for more than a few scant moments. Only time will tell.