oh my Dearest
they will eat you alive
they will eat you alive
"Dearest. I need you to be honest with me.” Her mother spoke calmly, but there was a seriousness to the tone that made the small child nervous, “Did you eat all the berries out of Miss Hawth’s garden.”
She blinked in an innocent way, her eyes going wide. “I didn’t know I wasn’t s’pposed to.”
Her mother frowned. “There is a sign that says ‘STAY OUT’ on front of the gate.”
“But I did!” She argued, “I sent the boys in there to get them for me.”
She blinked in an innocent way, her eyes going wide. “I didn’t know I wasn’t s’pposed to.”
Her mother frowned. “There is a sign that says ‘STAY OUT’ on front of the gate.”
“But I did!” She argued, “I sent the boys in there to get them for me.”
It wasn’t that she was unaware of the fact that the stranger she found herself talking to was awkward. It was rather evident, in her halted words and uncertain body language. To put it simply, Dearest did not care. Even the most graceful fish would be awkward on dry land as it flopped and fought for breath. Perhaps that is what this other mare is doing right now. Fighting to breathe. Who was she to judge how a creature lived their life? And to be honest, she loved a good story. She hoped that perhaps under the gruff exterior was something worth her curiosity.
If there wasn’t, so what? She was still getting her drink.
“Sabrina, eh?” She gave a small nod, as if deciding it was fitting, ”I like it. The tavern isn’t far. Lets hope I can drink better than a badger with a stick too.”
Obviously amused with herself, she lead the way as instructed, looking back to make sure her new friend hadn’t dipped out down some sun-soaked alleyway. “So what's your story? I haven't been in Novus for long, but the one thing I've learned is that everyone has a story.” She paused in her words, as if just realizing this may be a bit too invasive. She sometimes forgets that people don’t always want to tell their tales. “No pressure, of course.” She continued on, rambling, with enough energy to rival the heat that plauged them all, “Just think on it. Little place is right ahead.” and she gestured to a sort of hole in the wall with a worn sign that hung over the door.
Clearly, this establishment had seen better days but Dearest had fallen head over (all four) heels with the gritty atmosphere. The patrons that slipped in and out at all hours were real. She could see it in the lines of their faces and the bend of their backs. But the real reason she comes here every day? She hadn’t been able to make Old Hargis smile yet, and it had become quite the game. He was standing near the bar as they entered and the red mare’s face lit up with mischief. Slyly, she gave Sabrina a wink, before yelling out over the chatter of voices and glasses, ”Oi! Hargis! You agree to marry me yet or not? I'm not getting any younger over here.” and the older fellow let out a sound of disgust that was so loud, the tender asked him if he was choking.
“Ah’m not choking!” He scoffed, “You heardin’ that!? Scarlet woman, ah tell ya. Have’er go shake’er bells at the Leaky Dragon! Not ‘ere!.”
His words were not taken seriously, not even by himself as could be told by the slight glint in his eyes that didn’t match his grumpy mood. A few of the other patrons laughed, and it was soon an exchange left in the past as she turned her attention back to the mare.
“Sorry bout that,” she said, ”Took me a week to get him to acknowledge me. You shoulda heard what he said that day.” This memory must have amused her, because she gave a small chuckle. Luckily, the cooling enchantment attached to the building was already doing its job. She could feel herself relaxing, and she shifted her weight, tossing her head to move a few black curls out of her face. Of course, they fell right back where they wanted to, but it was the effort that mattered.
“So what's your poison, Sabrina?” Dearest asked, gaze shifting for a moment and a hoof stamping to signal the worker before her attention returned fully to the patterned woman.
