This hunt for the relic had started off like a grand idea. She would go into the forest, be on her own, and look for some hidden gem that would make her life infinitely better. And yet, here she was, sipping from a sweet pool of water soaked to the bone in sweat. It was definitely not a look she preferred to sport. Normally she was very careful about her appearance, wanting to only look her best. After all, if she was unkept in appearance, who would take her seriously? No one. She had to be a badass in order to prove herself so there was no way in hell she’d let her appearance get the best of her.
She had meant for this little water break to last only as long as it took for her to get her fill. And yet, here she was, being stared at by the other individual who happened to be doing the same thing. She was just going to ignore the woman, allow her to drink her own water in peace, but it was the other who raised to her full height to look at her.
Slowly Sloane raised her head, her eyes meeting the stranger. Social interactions were always hard for the black mare, so she wasn’t quite sure what to say or do. But ultimately, she spoke first, starting off their encounter talking about the beauty of the forest. Eyes looked around her, never having thought to take in the beauty of the island. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, or so they say, and it had never been something high on Sloane’s priority list. “I suppose so, if you have an eye for beauty.” Beauty was not something Sloane was particularly well versed in, nor was it something she cared about. It was one of those things that a lot of people held much trust in, but to Sloane, it meant nothing. Good looks and pretty landscape would not get her anywhere closer to the Relic.
It was in this moment that Sloane felt like she was being watched. Eyes looked around her, peeking through the dense foliage looking for what might be the source of the feeling. She could not see the lurking tiger, but if she could, there was a good chance she might have said something snarky about its inability to be completely transparent. After all, a good hider does not give away the fact that they are spying on another.
It was the mare’s voice that drew her gaze back to her. Talk of being exotic and dark, what did this mare think she was? A French model? Eyes opened wide and if she had eyebrows, they would surely be furrowing in disgust. “Exotic? Have you not looked in the mirror? You’re a little more exotic than me.” She was flashy and red with gold trim. She was dark with only subtle hints of red. She was far less exotic, at least that was what she was telling herself.
But then again, what if she did sit for a painting? What would she get out of it? Surely it would not be a famous painting that would be shown in traveling galleries. Surely it would be placed in a vault never to be seen again. But perhaps she could get something out of it. “…and if I actually let you paint me, what would I get out of it?” She wanted knowledge. She wanted secrets. She wanted things that would be worth far more than gold.
She sighs, knowing that such a thing would be impossible. There was nothing good that would come from a painting and nothing to help her gain what she was after. This mare, after all, would not trade the relic for an art piece. “Look, the conversation has been nice, but I’m after something.” She wasn’t outright going to tell the other that she was looking for the Relic. Why would she? That would be telling the enemy where the base camp was. She wasn’t that dumb, at least she didn’t think she was.
@Moira
