To be honest, there was little interest in the court of Day. Willoughby did not like the desert realm; simply because she was a vain creature. Sweat poured off her as she wandered into this region and she greedily approached the oasis with the intent to clean the dust and dirt off. The sweat seemed almost iridescent on her pale coat - but she didn't care. It was unsightly and disgusting to her.
With a tired sigh, she strolled into the oasis's waters. Why was she here again? The vagabond did not know. The other courts had wonderful displays and specific places to explore. Day had little things of interest. Of course, the people were exotic and interesting. She did not doubt that. But dust, dirt and blood were not something she personally appreciated.
The field of battle was lost on the pacifist's mind. She did not come to see those fighting. She had merely picked a direction at random, following the road. Such was her life as a lone beast. Crossing the desert had taken precious time; she would relax for now. Standing shoulder deep in the depths, she smiled as she closed her eyes. The pegasus stretched her wings.
"It is not kind to watch a lady as she bathes" she says, not looking in the direction the other was in. The maiden heard the footfalls and heard them stop. She could almost feel the hesitation.
The heat is unbearable. Reality melts, and takes you with it as you bathe in sweat, awakening from beneath your fading shade. This isn't the place to sleep in. Get up, is something you have to remind yourself with each passing morning. You spend your lonely nights pining now as your sore muscles rest, staring off into the void of sand, and wind as you simply try and decide what's next.
Every afternoon, you wake up angry as you bake in the heat. There's no safety in traversing the dunes through the sun, especially when you can't find it here.
At least house arrest becomes an easier thing to handle when you have a pool, peeling yourself off the thin, damp grass to shake what sand you can from your coat. That's another thing: the sand gets everywhere, without end. It continues its assault without mercy. Another reason to hate this place, one more scribble on the list as of why you should be getting out of here faster.
Bleary-eyed, and sluggish, your stroll towards relief matches that of a zombie, barely there as you slowly work to remove the tight braid out of your tail along the way. You don't even think to check and see if someone is there when you do arrive, recalling that the citizens here seem to be more feral than civilized. As far as your knowledge extends, they are nothing more than wild animals, though more than welcoming to strangers should someone stumble upon them.
Which in this case, falls your fate today. Your vision remains fogged when her voice pipes up. The middle of your nose scrunches up before you're able to lay your gaze upon her, already half-tempted to say something witty to send her on her way. The oasis to yourself sounds lovely this morning, but -
Oh, okay.
You should've come to the natural conclusion that eventually, there would be someone of, ahem, quality here, but didn't expect them to fall so quickly into your line of thought. Your sharpening vision brings you a lady, she said, who fails to give you the adequate attention you should already be receiving. It simply won't do.
"If a lady doesn't want to be watched as she bathes, maybe she shouldn't bathe herself in public." Confidence carries your voice towards her, allowing yourself an expressive stretch as you reach the shoreline. You will get what you want. "Would the lady" you tease with specific emphasis to the title she's given herself, "like some assistance with her bath?"
@Willoughby / speaks / are you ready because i'm so ready
“Public?” the maiden echoes, dipping her wings into the cooling water as she contemplates the man's words “you are the first I have seen wandering this kingdom all day” she replies breezily. Her words lack venom or sarcasm, merely stating a fact that he perhaps failed to see himself. “I thought I was alone.”
But one was truly never alone in Novus. Not for long. There was always someone coming upon another, forming connections and bonds. Or fleeting memories. She did not dwell on such thoughts for long. “And if I say no?” she presses as he offers to bathe her “would the sir force his presence on the lady?” Willoughby quietly tests him, an indirect way of asking if he was a threat.
The stallion seemed to leer, but his voice was a jest. She could not pluck his true emotions out, and therefore remained a bit wary. The first time she had ever been wary in Novus thus far. How strange.
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
She is a sight to behold as her wings fall, giving you an opportunity to see her in her full beauty. You're not one for games though, whether she decides to play stupid, or is genuinely that dumb. The response you receive is enough to bring a minor recoil to your chin, turning your head to the side, and bringing your muzzle an inch or so closer to your neck. A snort adds the finishing touch to the look. "We are never alone in this place. You people are always in each other's business, crawling out of the sand, and emptiness to fall upon just a single soul." Minor annoyance laces itself through your tone of voice, the hard lines to your upper brows showing your displeasure further. "I was thinking I'd be alone today, and here you are, standing in the pond I've been living at for a bit now."
Regardless, an answer awaits your previous question as you bring yourself back around to her. A glimpse at rejection won't be enough to discourage, but you can still take the hint. "I wouldn't say it'd be forcing, if I've been residing here already, and came for my morning bath to find someone is already bathing in it."
Water climbs to your knees, bless. You aren't going to be held back from relief due to some stranger. "Don't believe it'd be too hard to share when it's this hot," thin taunting as you take the extra effort to give her space. Feathered wings find themselves being lifted higher as the water raises, a light shiver running along your spine as you sink.
A sly look flies over your left wing towards her direction: ears turned back slightly with no intention of aggression, lips slightly puckered as if you could blow her as a kiss. You give her an expectant look as you finally smile. "I'm not that bad, don't judge."
“You have a point - though I would not say it in such a way” she gives him, closing her eyes as her neck lowers to the water, chin touching the cooling water. Willoughby could not say she ever felt a negative space from another from herself. Some irritation, yes, we are only human in that sense. She felt blessed for each encounter she had come to know. “I apologize, sir, for I did not notice your scent here.”
Whether she was being indirectly sarcastic or just innocent was beyond her tone of voice. She sounded apologetic, but therein was some stubbornness. This Oasis belonged to Solterra, and the man smelt of a wayfarer at best. He may think he had claim to it, but he did not. Willoughby did not have a claim to anything; she knew her place as a vagabond in Novus. They belonged to nothing. They belonged to nobody but themselves. It was almost selfish.
“I was not going to turn you away, sir” she adds in her light tones “the water belongs to every creature on this earth. I am no selfish woman. Enjoy your bath.” especially if he truly needed it. She watches from her spot, unwilling to let him come closer and 'assist' her bathing. That was perhaps too intimate for strangers, even if she believed in free love.
He tells her not to judge, but she could not help it at first. A bit of shame and guilt springs to her chest, but she pushes it down. If the man decided to be a bit rude, she would not put up with it for long. Dense or not, Willoughby knew when she was not wanted. And she did not force her presence on those that did not want her. “If I was intruding, and this is your place, you could have chased me away” she points out softly.
“But you did not.” Perhaps a quiet tease to him back, if she did not sound a bit serious about it. The maiden could be wrong though. He could be proven to be violent. So, no. She did not think him 'bad' in that sense.
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
Something inside of you feels as if it should be bothered by her comment, pulling in the corner of your cheek opposite to her, sure to hide your disdain behind your exposed cheek. The temptation to scuff at her comes along, but no, you've always been the type to spare a pretty face as long as they're providing you some sort of pleasure. As long as she lasts, essentially.
Your retained scuff makes its exit as soon as her gaze is off you. The apology that you receive isn't enough to move past, but who said you were the forgiving kind? "Would you like the truth, or would you like to be lied to? The truth hurts, but I'll lie to you if you're too soft." A jab taken at the aesthetic of the pastel dove, her features delicate, colours akin to what you'd imagine to come with privilege. Too nice to have endured the brutality of the world.
Having reached a depth at which you're comfortable with, tense knees bend with a soft groan as you submerge yourself. As much as you hate getting your feathers wet, it's worth getting out of the sun. It bares down hard against the length of your face before dunking yourself entirely.
Left open-mouthed for the brief of moments, snorting to clear the rest of the water from your air ways as water droplets fly, it's what you needed. Awake in the fullest, prepared to enjoy the company of a mare who you now find is participating in your small game. A deep breath, and you pop your head (and full attention) around to acknowledge her statement with a coy smile. "Would anyone wish to chase away a pretty dove in their bird bath, first thing in the morning?"
A single wing crawls out from beneath the surface, and waves itself forward to send a splash in her direction, more teasing. "That is, unless you're wanting to be chased."
Too many assume she is either stupid or soft. Some think both. Willoughby resists to roll her eyes, finding the gesture ever so rude even in the moments needed. “You may do as you like” the maiden replies to the man, keeping her tone civil “if lying is easier for you, than I shall not judge you for it” a beat, a pause before she looks back at him, amused “I am a big girl; I can handle the truth.”
Her feathers ruffle, shaking off the water that clings to them as he goes on. “A pretty dove, am I now?” heat does not stretch to her cheeks though “here I assume you thought me a dense fool - ah!” but more words do not stray from her lips as he proceeds to splash her. So, the stallion was more playful than his arrogance led on? He would not be sore about this - Willoughby loved a good game.
Spitting water from her mouth, she blinks rapidly to clear her vision. “Only snakes chase doves from their baths” she muses “are you a snake, good sir?” she throws to him before lifting a wing haphazardly and slams it against the water. She attempts to spray him back, giggling in her naïve way. Even though her words could assume wisdom, she is a girl at the core.
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
“Can you now?” You taunt, slipping a sly smile against your lips as your cheeks press against their bones, eyes squinting with light effort for effect.
“And what if you don’t like the truth?”
She carries on about how you believe her to be a fool, - you do, - only to see her cut abruptly short by the volley of water you’ve sent her way. Nothing is wasted on hiding the amusement that runs across your features this time, ears tucked and expression sly as your balance is found once more. She even earns herself your laughter, what a treat.
"Would you like me to be your snake?" And while you're not quite the chasing type, she is indeed, your type to pursue. What a pleasure. "I think I could entertain the pair of us with a good chase."
The work you've put into closing the distance between the two of you finds itself cut short, recoiling against the wave that charges you, and while your attempt at ruffling her feathers has brought you some joy, the same cannot be said for her actions. You sneer with brows knotted, expression tense, and surprise hard. Her laughter is the only thing that reminds that you that this is a game.
She'll be as soft as you imagined her from the beginning.
"Or are you wanting assistance with your bath now?
