The moonwashed mare spent most of her days since joining Antares, grazing near enough to his family that she was not forgotten and yet far enough away so that she did not feel as an intruder. Although a part of her felt at home here in the desert sands among others of her kin, despite that, she still felt as though she were staring at a reflection upon the mirrored surface of a pool. Watching but never touching.
Silently she chided herself time and time again. Reminding herself that there were worse fates in this world and were it not for Antares intervention, she might have become a victim to one of them. This home was as close to sanctuary as she could ever come, who was she to frown upon it?
The adoration that passed between Antares and his wife does not go unnoticed. Though he reminded her more of her father than a lover, still the passion in their eyes is enough to cause her to turn away and seek solace in solitude. That is when she comes upon him.
Guinevvere did not know him by name, it may have been mentioned a time or two by Antares but not enough that she remembered it nor did she expect that he would know hers. Nonetheless, the sight of him, even disheveled and in the shadows of the tall palm trees, she recognized him as a brother to the Sheik. ’Goodday… may I be of assistance?’ just as with Antares, the sincerity in his voice is calming, dissipating the initial jitters that told her to back away and leave him to his own thoughts. A warm smile slides easily across her ashen lips as she inclines her head respectfully towards him, closing the remaining distance that separated them. ”Good morrow sir…” she begins, lifting her head once more to allow her gaze to travel across his handsome physique. From the startling bright white of his star to the hidden notes of burgundy in his dark mane, the stallion was as fine a specimen as his brothers, even with the bits of hay and twigs caught in his mane and tail. It was no wonder why the wives seemed to adore them so deeply.
Staring. She was staring. She clears her throat and drops her eyes, afraid that meeting his own dark pools might bring the rising heat of embarrassment to the surface of her skin. Her gaze flutters trying her best to hide the amusement and admiration in her pale silver eyes. ”I am not in need of any assistance…” she begins, letting her voice trail off as she blinks gently up at him. Carefully she stretches her sleek moonwashed neck forward, ashen lips plucking a single strand of dried grass from a tangle of his thick, dark mane. ”Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you?” she teases dropping the yellowed stalk to the sand at their hooves.
