TORIELLE
It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams
Tents of every colour and size, banners waving lazily in the wind, blacksmiths and leatherworkers to one side, textiles and jewels at another, and in the center a large opening for dancing. The images of her home overlaid themselves easily onto this landscape, and the more potential she saw in the meadow, the more excited it made her. Perhaps she was building it all up too much in her mind. After all, she had no true knowledge of how Novus would run it’s festivals. She had only barely heard of the activities hosted by other courts, not having enough strength of mind or spirit to pursue them when they arose. Her homesickness, her restlessness, they painted the pictures she wanted to see, and for now, that comforted her, even if it was a false comfort.
A voice behind the mare stilled her movements, the tones rich and silky, her audits flicking back to take in the words spoken. She must have been too lost in her own thoughts to not have heard his approach upon the crust of ice. Torielle turned first her head, and at the sight of him, her body soon followed.
The size of him was greater than any stallion she had ever met. The studs that were born to her mountains had always been hardy folk, thicker and more full than the other tribes of her homeland. This creature was of another caliber, though. He stood near to double her height at the withers, or so it would seem. His stature was that of raw, hardened muscle, the texture of stone spread about his dark coat without any seeming rhyme or reason. The tell tale signs of Friesian heritage were present in the vague wave and curl of his locks, cropped short on his flank and pulled back on the crest of his neck. He was every bit the image of ‘stoic’, eyes a piercing blue, features crafted with a chisel into obsidian marble. If he had worn a sprawling rack atop his crown he could have been a vision of her father.
“Yes,” she agreed, rather startled, her eyes widening. “I’ll be glad for the warmer months. This winter has been far too harsh and long for my liking.” Torielle shifted her weight, unsettled at just how much her heart ached at the sight of this strange man.
Her tail flicked behind her, copper locks brushing at her sooty flanks, the jewels and coins that made their home at the base rustling with the movement. It took the woman a long moment before she realized that she was staring, and averted her gaze, casting it across the open field as she speaks, her words more steady this time.
“What brings you here, then?” She tried to keep her tone light, hoping that pleasant conversation would calm her nerves, and that more knowledge of this stallion would soothe her heart from the unexpected, and rather more lonely reminder of home.
art by the-day-of-shadow character by scapeh table by sunny
