Noëlle
To her relief, the mare isn’t as bothered as Noëlle anticipated. To be fair she’d expected the wrath of the sisters to come down upon her head. Perhaps the heavy hand of a noble or some stately official, but on second glance it seemed unlikely for either circumstance to be of issue. By the condition of the stranger’s robe, and the proximity of vessels unloading passengers. Regardless, a pang of guilt welled behind her eyes.
The mare laughs – putting off the edge, to some degree. Winking in collusion.
I’m perfectly fine. Just a bit ruffled. Are you okay?
“Are you absolutely sure?” She tilts her head, and has made the motion of bobbing it down slightly lower. Guilt and shame swirling in a soup brewed from fatigue. Emotions that felt stronger, much sharper when tired and hungry.
“Ah – it will take a lot more to bring me down miss,” a nervous chuckle escapes her.
Another voice offers introductions from the alleyway, as Noëlle steps aside to look. His imposing figure emerges from the shadows, despite the slightness in his limbs or the coolness in his gaze. A dichotomy of finesse and sincerity pressed upon them. Two weathered beings scrambling for purchase on their own hooves.
She raised a curious brow by his emergence. Fancied his bronzed figure and the appendages of feathers and horn that collected together, balanced and well placed. He seemed dangerous in an unassuming way. Possessing the kind of predatory grace a tiger or a puma does while tracking prey. But one could assume all sorts of things from strangers.
A brief laugh escapes her lips – light and airy, as the woman appraises the stranger. Shaking off what loomed behind her eyes.
Were you pondering, by chance, better ways to spy on others?
“Now that you’ve mentioned it kind sir, I do feel a little sore in this cold weather… A spot of tea would do me right.” She wasn’t completely lying – it was cold after all, she could feel the pang of hunger rear inside her gut with a troubling emergence. “Wouldn’t you agree miss? Not that I have much to spare myself…” Feigns a sigh.
“I don’t suppose you would go to that length of trouble, mister?” If it wasn’t obvious, it was comedic. Haggling wasn’t a skill she’d perfected, but in this circumstance it proved strangely fitting to the girl (hunger besides the point, warm rooms, cozy fires…). She gave the mare a quick wink and laughed at the incredulous display of bargaining.
