Inkheart
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
She remains still, not moving as Bexley approaches her, examines her. Her skull lifts, orbs burning with intrigue. Her nares flare, taking in the scent of the female, learning her. Sand swirls delicately around Bexley's hooves, dust remaining in the air to float gently back to earth. The delicate woman turns to expose a horrible looking bruise, coloring a large part of her ribcage. The edge is just barely within her reach, her velvets just touching it. Hurts like a bitch. Inkheart offers a grim smile, acknowledging that such a contusion must be terribly painful. Perhaps it will begin to itch as it heals, much like a scab or an inflamed muscle.
But Bexley's frown turns upside down, a broad grin lighting her visage. Something playful dances in her sapphire eyes, and Inkheart's glow in return. The chestnut's next words are clearly a jest, but like a rose with thorns, it risks damaging her pride. All depending on how Inkheart chooses to receive it. Sympathy and mockery rolled up in one. The ends of her lips curl up, but her lips remain tight. "It would seem so... I guess bravery in charging the beast was not to be rewarded." She twists the truth as she peels the thorns from the rose's stem. Of course, she had not charged the beast, but nor had she shrunk from it. Instead, she had been taken by surprise, hit harder than others without a chance to even perceive what was happening. That doesn't mean the priestess needs to reveal that she could possibly be anything less than a courageous soldier.
She steers the budding conversation onward, maintaining the same topic. "Tell me, what is your calling? Surely you must be a grand warrior..." The end of the sentence has a lilt almost like a question, with sarcasm cradling the adjective. Another tease, of course. The inked mare doesn't know anything about Bexley, and although she's testy in her inquiry, her interest is genuine.
