Meadow

Tuari was not expecting company, in truth, Tuari was quite used to being invisible to not just her own family (or extended family she should say) but the rest of the world as well. She was nothing special, no flaunting of her hip or elegant sashay of her legs that resembled the desert dancer that mother had always told her about. No. She was merely Tuari, the lost girl, the fate's playtoy. Though there were many unfamiliar horses in the meadow today none of them bothered to pay her any mind. Most, lost themselves deep in private conversations. Pale silver blue eyes blink as she watches them with mild interest, the heads pressed close together. No doubt the arrival of the breeding season had brought most of them here, perhaps star crossed lovers daring to share a night of passion in each other’s embrace. The thought made her stomach twist and bile rose into her throat.

She had been those mares once, her own heart had fluttered at the reassurance of Torsten’s voice and the passion with which he touched her. Even the lost prince had once been affectionate, lost in the rise of emotions that had consumed her. However that was gone. Despite the urge to procreate that caused her own alabaster tail to flick back and forth with need, she is careful to angle her steps away from any stallion that turns a gaze towards her. That is, until she nearly manages to turn right into the cream and white stallion.

Apologetically she drops her gently arched neck. Pale lashes blink slowly over silver blue eyes as she lifts her gaze to meet his. ”Oh… I’m… Im sorry. I didn't mean to… I mean…” she stutters taking a nervous step backwards.

Ears perk at his comment, a small smile tugging her own lips as she turns her gaze towards the open meadow that surrounds them. Though most of the grasses had long turned yellow and the short shoots of green already hidden beneath the yellow and brown shades of coming winter, still, the falling leaves of red and gold and orange had a sort of ethereal beauty in her eyes, making the meadow itself seem to alight with the late afternoon sun. ”This is my first time here.” she murmurs, more to herself than the stallion that stood before her. ”It is beautiful…” she finishes, flicking her long white tail against creamy sides as once more she found her gaze lingering on the stallion’s handsome face. He was young, but no longer than herself she supposed. His features are rugged yet friendly, reminding her much of the northern stallions that called Tinuvel home. Tinuvel, the thought once more causes her stomach to lurch. Was he somehow related to her too? The gods were cruel enough to see it happen. ”Different from Tinuvel….” she whispers turning back to meet his eyes. ”Do you…. Do you live here?”