Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
| Rhiannon i'm so tasty and the price is right |
| Rhiannon's confidence soared ever skyward as she trotted deeper into the clearing, tendrils of autumn-dried grass whispering against her knees. Her heart thrummed wildly against the cage of her ribs as she greedily drank in the sights and smells and sounds that surrounded her, entirely unaccustomed to such freedom. Beneath the iron thumb of her family she had been but a canary in a cage, little more than a shiny bauble to be pawned off at their desire. Yet here... here, she was in control. She was free to do as she pleased, speak to who she pleased, to go where she wished when she wished, to flaunt herself with abandon before any and all who would take notice.
And take notice they did. From the corner of her eye, Rhiannon observes several stallions turning their gazes towards her. Some were curious, some were questioning, others were outright leering, but all were welcome. The brash smile that she wore grew wider with every head that turned in her direction. Some mares, too, paused their idle chit-chat to spare a glance at her, and was that envy she saw in their eyes? Good. Rhiannon tossed her coppery crown and flagged her white-tipped tail higher, her keen gaze scanning the meadow that unfurled before her. Were she a smarter girl, she might have realized how ill-advised it was to be flaunting herself like so in the middle of autumn, putting herself out there for any hormone-laden stallion to wrap around her like a serpent. As it were, though, her only focus was on the thrill of having their eyes on her, the jolt of pleasure that shot up her spine with each head that turned, and the feeling of intrigue that blossomed unexpectedly within her breast as her emerald eyes settled on the rapidly approaching figure of a loudly patterned stallion. There was no missing him amidst the sea of strangers that surrounded her. Like a rose blossoming in a field of weeds, he was lovely and impossible to ignore. The manchado mare tossed her head and painted on her best come hither smile. It was hard to keep herself from making her own beeline towards him, feeling as if gravity were pulling her in his direction. Though she could feel the roving eyes of stallions and mares alike boring into her from near and far, her own verdigris gaze remained locked upon him, her own painted coat twitching in barely-concealed anticipation as they drew closer to one another. A soft titter bubbled from her lips as he nearly tumbled to the ground in his haste. His eagerness was oddly endearing, the tilt of her smile turning sincere as they came to a halt before one another. For a moment she simply stared at him expectantly, bronze lashes fluttering over wide eyes. 'I've been waiting all my life to meet someone like you,' he said at last, 'Can I have your name, miss?' His honeyed words, rushed and cheesy as they might have been, knocked her already rapid heart rate up another notch. They struck their mark in the prideful young mare, who preened beneath his earnest attention. This was what she had come here seeking - not sweet nothings whispered to her, not to be entrapped like a gnat in a web and then summarily discarded, but to be praised with such sincerity that there was no mistaking the devotion in her lover's tone. In all her short life, all she had ever desired was to be worshiped, praised, loved, adored, shown off like the precious gem she was, and now with Theseus - standing before her, she felt as if it just might be within her reach at last. He was handsome and gentlemanly - a rare combination to come by, or so her sisters and aunts had proclaimed. "Well, Theseus," Rhiannon crooned sweetly, a breathy laugh whispering from her lips as she stepped forward to brazenly encroach upon the slim space between them, "it seems your wait is over. I'm Rhiannon. You can just call me Rhia, though." At this she reached out to offer him her breath, the minuscule space between their skin feeling electrified, like the most exhilarating storm was brewing between the meager inches that separated them. Rhiannon's own eyes roved eagerly across the chiseled lines of his face - like a fly drawn to honey, her eyes returned time and time again to his own. They reminded him of churned earth after a spring rain, a warm, rich brown that held her attention, in spite of her best efforts to appear coyly aloof. "So, Theseus, why don't you tell me about yourself?" Rhiannon requested, flashing him an alluring smile, "Are you a native? Or maybe you're like me, come here to seek a new life for yourself?" She had always been wont to talk about herself, but Theseus' seemingly gentle demeanor and the sincerity within his tone made her eager to know more about him. |
| three years ❁ arabian ❁ mare
chestnut manchado ❁ 14.2 hands ❁ no home played by pippa ❁ reference |
