The eyes that peer back at her when she turns are so unlike the ones she's grown accustomed to seeing. The brilliant blue reminds her of the tropical seas that surround Atlantis, or the icy blue floes that wade perpetually in Tinuvel's harbors. When he speaks, his words do nothing but invoke a harsh, mirthless laugh from the mare. She quickly regains her composure and sourly informs him, "It was not bound to be much of a reunion. At least not a happy one."
Their conversation is pleasant, for the most part, but Marceline is all too aware of the way the clouds gather at her back, blackened cathedrals towering ominously above the Isles. She wants to get out of this blasted clearing and away from any and all possibility of being electrocuted.
At last he says, 'I don't mind if you join me,' and Marceline's smirk grows exponentially wider. "Merveilleuse! Lead the way."
She keeps perfectly still as he steps closer, an action brimming with hesitancy. The only movement she makes is from the upward curl of her smile and the shifting of her honeyed gaze as she watches him step around and away. Unlike past stallions whom she's encountered, he is wise and gives her a wide berth. The pale stallion keeps a respectful distance as he leads her towards his secret shelter. Through the meadow and into the woods, to sheltered ground they go.
Just as they reach the cave, the skies open up with a mighty crack of thunder. It seems to shake the earth to its very core. Certainly Marceline feels shaken to her core, having never fared well in heavy storms. She pauses a few paces behind him, fear lacing through her veins and pulling a nervous nicker from her lips. Rain spills across the plain in thick sheets and even under the protection of the trees, each little droplet hits like a stone against the sensitive skin of Marceline's back and face.
I've got to get to the rocks, she thinks, squinting through the downpour. Marceline can barely make out the figure of her companion through it, but it's distinct enough that she uses it as a guide to get through the monsoon and to the dry haven beneath the outcropping. For all the things she hated about the Dunes, she certainly found herself missing it in this particular moment. At least there she wasn't at risk of getting drenched with little warning.
"Affreuse! I hate storms." She says, watching as lightning arcs across the sky in brilliant blue-white spears, cleaving the clouds in two. Swift on its jagged heels are peals of thunder that make the ground feel as if it was moving beneath the speckled mare's hooves. The branches of the trees bow and sway under the onslaught of the elements and somewhere to her left, Marceline hears the unmistakable splintering of wood as it gives way to the pressures of the wind.
Eyeing the mighty boulders which act as their shelter, Marceline shuffles a little closer to the stallion. Despite being smaller in height than herself, his presence puts her at ease. She reasons that it's better to be holed up with a tiny, handsome stranger than out in this bitter storm, and feels a rare surge of gratefulness towards him for allowing her to tag along.
Still, doubt laces the appaloosa's voice as she asks, "You're sure this is safe?" Though she's never experienced one, she's heard of hurricanes and tornadoes and how their winds are mighty enough to displace rocks and bring down entire trees. As the sound of cracking wood echoes through the forest once more, she wonders just how much force it would take to send these rocks tumbling down on top of them. The thought brings little comfort, an unpleasant shiver streaking down her spine.
"How'd you know it was here, anyway?" Was he the only one that knew about this little cave, or was it common knowledge among the residents of the Isles? It certainly provided ample space to escape an impending storm... or hide away with a lover for a night.
Affreuse - awful
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