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but don’t make me your enemy ;;; for dittany
Topic Started: Apr 5 2014, 05:08 PM (328 Views)
`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
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and a larger version of the beautiful boy<3


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zebroid hybrid stallion . rowan x siason . six years old . seal bay w/striped legs . brown eyes . neutral . 16hh

A grunted sigh passes through my lips as I feel solid ground beneath my hooves, and a sense of relief suddenly flows through me as I haul myself towards the shoreline. The seawater clings to my muscled body, dripping like unwilling vines as they untangle themselves and return to the frothy depths. My black mane and tail stick to my skin, for once looking more normal rather than its usual disheveled manner of ups and downs. I sigh heavily as I walk several feet passed the foamy waves, flicking the length of my tail before I stop. I stand there for a moment, just breathing and closing my eyes as I allow myself to regain my labored breath.

My breath feels warm in comparison to the cool autumn night, and loud when there is little else to compete but the dull roaring of the ocean. I stand still for several long moments, not moving until my muscles have ceased their quivering and my lungs no longer scream for air. Only once I have regained myself, do I open my eyes and turn my head to look behind me. The ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see, from horizon to horizon. It glitters beneath Kormada’s moons, sparkling like ruffled moving glass.

The obvious distance frightens me. It has been nearly three weeks since I had departed from Kherulian Fief’s forested borders, leaving my mares behind. It had pained me immensely to do so, especially since Relic has hardly been around as of late, but it was something that I had to do. As liberating as being a beta is, I know I need to move on now. It was the breather I needed, but now I need to tear myself from hopes of the past and focus more on my mares, as well as myself. That is impossible to do while in the Fief, surrounded every day by the memories, just clinging to the hope that I might see my sister’s slender figure emerge from the shadows that have lost her.

Of course, Lead Duchy had been my first choice, but even after only a few hours there I knew that it wouldn’t work—it is too close for me to move on. And so my search had expanded to other continents, until I have finally traveled to where I stand now. The two enormous towers mark this noble land, known for its purity and sacred nature. I feel so dark in its midst, but unable to stay away. It is comforting to know that my mares are only a day’s or two journey north from here, but I cannot travel to the Fief tonight. For many long hours I was held in the ocean’s clutches, pushing my muscles to the limits; the Towers had seemed a beacon when they came into view.

With my nostrils flaring as I exhale deeply, I tear my gaze away from the shimmering horizon. I make my way slowly up the shoreline, the sand giving way into the beach grass, and then trees. I halt when I am engulfed in the mottled shadows, searching for any sign that someone is near. This land has obviously been inhabited, but nothing causes alarm for me now, and so I settle in to rest. My eyes close as the darkness rises, and sweet unconsciousness takes me in her gentle embrace.
---------------------
I wake with a start, blinking against the beginning of dawn as my eyes adjust from the starry shadows. I shake my head, suddenly realizing that something is off from when I last remember—something is different. My ears flatten before they perk to catch any sound, and my nostrils flare as I test the clean morning air; there it is. A scent stains the breeze where it wasn’t before. I take a few steps back in alarm before the grogginess fades and my senses catch up with me. It is obviously very feminine, devoid of the stale musk of the stallion that had been here previously. I purse my dark lips, debating my options before I step further into the territory, my eagerness to scope out the magnificence of the Towers outweighing the possibility of meeting this illusive stranger.


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Hazel coloured eyes scour the horizon, waiting for the moment when Prime would finally emerge. The lone maiden had already witnessed the twinkling stars fade, the dark sky circle from shades of blue through to the pinks and purples that caught the edges of lingering clouds. Surrounding trees hindered her view somewhat, but the maiden stood still and simply watched what she could. A line of gold appeared at the horizon, rays of light instantly piecing the heavens as the distant star rose. Curled lobes flicked round in reaction to an unexpected sound; she knew that she was alone here, so she hadn’t been expecting to be disturbed. The breeze was against her, so it was impossible to determine the equines identity, but she knew it wasn’t Icarus. The draft stallion had always come across as calm and calculating – it was hard to believe that he would scrabble in such a way.

She turns her blaze-marked face towards the source of the disruption, catching a very brief glimpse of a dark-coloured form beyond the timbers. Instinctively she steps forward, her golden pelt and contrasting silvery strands standing out against her surroundings. Her movements and posture are kept as correct and as elegant as the lateness of her condition will allow as she strides through the shadows. Sleek strands of her tail whisk round her haunches and flick at the mare’s distended barrel as she emerges between the timbers, coming to a halt before her form is completely free of the long shadows thrown by surround trees. Hazel eyes briefly scan the other equine’s form, noting his unusual markings. They were not completely alien to the Kathawari maiden – she was at home in the desert and had, in her foalhood, come across the occasional zebra, though this was the first zebroid that she’d come across in these strange lands.

The stallion stands taller than her, though the distance between them makes the difference a little less obvious. Curled lobes stand forwards, focused on the stranger and pointedly ignoring the flurries of movements from her unborn offspring. “What is it that brings you here?” Dittany still knew little of the customs of this land – though there seemed to be very few – but even she was aware that it was risky for any male to cross the boarders of such a territory.
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`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
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Let me out of this dream.

I wander freely about this foreign land, with only a small part of my mind given to the source of the unknown scent that continues to recede with every step as I wander further into the heart of the Towers. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so comfortable in a territory that is not my own, but really, who can blame me? It is hard not to feel settled in, comfortable, maybe even accepted when in a place that is renowned for both its beauty and its sacredness. It is a pleasant relief, honestly. Since leaving Lead Duchy, I had never really felt so at ease while held in the confines of the vines that smother Kherulian Fief. My mares’ company is glorious, yes, but it is difficult for a stallion (even one so drifting as myself) to resist the allure of a calm terrain.

And The Weeping Towers certainly does not disappoint. Even held in the grasp of the middle of summer, the trees thrive with life, their wide leafy boughs keeping a majority of the heat at bay as they throw dappled shadows that slide along the curve of my back and play with the stripes that are laced there. After a few moments, the trees begin to thin out, mixing with the shrubbery before giving way to a terrestrial ocean of green hills that roll ever so softly against the horizon. I hesitate at the tree line, allowing myself to take it in before I continue any further. I cannot fight the shadowing smile that softens the corners of my lips, which is a gesture that is far more foreign to me than it should be.

The meadow that stretches out before me is not particularly large, still spotted with the heavy forest that is sure to protect the borders of this sacred land. A small brook trickles close to the edge of the clearing, along one side before it curves and disappears into the dancing shadows. Of course, the two towers that hold this territory’s namesake stand tall and proud not too far from where I stand, like glorious beacons that rise to greet this beautiful summer morning. Everything is so pure and untouched by the darkness that is beginning to roil over the rest of Kormada. I feel like a black angel here, stained with the blood of those demons that have cursed, but a protectiveness suddenly grows that confuses me. This land must not know of the cruelty that rages around its hallowed borders.

I purse my dark lips with these thoughts, unsure what to make of them. Briefly I shake my head, the unusual parts of my mane flopping from side-to-side, before I emerge from the line of trees and step into the midst of the low-rolling hills. Prime’s rising light of the early morning greets me with its gentle warmth. I halt just after a few steps, unwilling to hurt the pretty picture any more than I already have. Still, I feel myself drawn to it.

Her voice comes suddenly behind me, and it startles me. My ears flatten out of instinct before the muscles in my neck flex as I turn my head to fix her with my almond eyes, but I quickly glance down, almost embarrassed. My dark nostrils flare as I exhale heavily, my entire body rotating slightly so that I may converse with her more comfortably. Only a moment or two passes before I slowly glance up to meet her brown gaze again. “I did not think this land was inhabited anymore,” I speak with measured tones. I am afraid to let my eyes wander away from her face, for she is very obviously swollen with pregnancy—and given my lack of offspring thus far, I am tremendously inexperienced when it comes to these situations.

Is it rude to look? I don’t want to offend her. At least her face is a pleasing sight.

“I suppose I am meant to passing through,” I purse my lips, still not quite understanding the situation that I have found myself in. I couldn’t very well acknowledge that I am searching for a territory when I apparently stand within one that is already taken, I don’t want to be offending anyone. Repressing a sigh, I flick the length of my tail around my hocks. “I don’t intend any harm,” I add quickly, figuring I should at least be on the safe side. I don’t need to be angering any stallion. I leave it at that, seeing little point in explaining myself any further, and not wanting to prolong a conversation with another stallion’s mare; I know I wouldn’t appreciate that. Silently I note her ears, and the peculiarity of them—I can understand. I am striped, after all, and I wonder if her curved ears are common where she’s from.

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#EpicStrut

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Dittany takes the stranger’s reaction in her stride; while most of her home herd had become accustomed to the Kathiawaris and the customs that came with such ancient family, newcomers could be a bit daunted by the sovereigns. Curled ears were an instantly recognisable characteristic of her breed but even in the desert lands the breed itself was dying out, if not already practically extinct. For months the maiden had been morning the loss of her family and had sought solitude for much of that … but things were going to change very soon, whether she liked it or not. Her gestation had overrun by a few days already and it wouldn’t be long before she’d have to deal with the resulting offspring. As well tutored and trained as Dittany may be for raising a new heir while surrounded by experienced mares who had assisted with the upbringing of many royals, she had never been prepared to raise a child alone.

The golden mare couldn’t help but note how the male’s eyes darted to her distended barrel before meeting her gaze. Even if she had wanted to, there was no way for Dittany to hide her condition – in fact, had everything gone to plan and in line with tradition, she would have been escorted through the very heart of the herd on the way to her chosen oasis to bring the new life into the world. Just about every aspect of the Kathiawari’s life would have been marked by some tradition or custom … but this side of Korma seemed devoid of all that. Horses here had no qualms about lying to or deceiving their fellow equines, they had no traditions and their actions seemed to lack thought or meaning. Dittany had only spent a brief spell in the land of the Homeless and had travelled through the gathering … but almost every other mare seemed to be in foal or have one at their side. In the deserts resources were scarce and couples took such into consideration before deciding to bring another life into the world. Not a great deal of foals were born each year and ones of Kathawari blood were exceptionally rare, which was echoed by the customs that surrounded their arrival.

Silvery strands flick around the mare’s slender haunches as she listens to the zebroid’s words. It’s not hard to tell that he is attempting to avoid admitting to his intentions. As naïve as she was to this culture, she had heard whispers about land ownership and, given the abundance of food and fresh water in the territory, it was no surprise that this stallion just happened to wonder through. A quiet ‘hmm’ is hummed as Dittany considers the intruder for another moment or two. “Icarus has not been within these borders for nigh on a season, nor has any other equine. Aside from myself, that is.” Her head is inclined very slightly as she mentions herself, retaining her elegant posture while attempting to somehow make the interaction a little less intimidating for the male.
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I think everybody's nuts.
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Let me out of this dream.

I am careful to keep my gaze resting on the mare’s blazed face, quite frankly, too scared to look anywhere else for long. I don’t want my eyes to linger on her swollen barrel, for fear of insulting her, and I don’t want to stare submissively at the ground—as brooding and quiet as I can be, I am not entirely passive. And besides, just staring blankly at the ground would be too awkward, right? The length of my black tail flicks around my flanks, the stripes now visible across my body with the warmth of the summer season, and my ears flick back and forth as I wait for her response.

She doesn’t seem to entirely believe me, which I suppose is to be expected on her part. I’ve never been particularly good at lying; not that I had really been lying to her in the first place, I have no idea what my intentions will be within Weeping Towers. Still, my ears flick back partly out of embarrassment, and my black lips purse against the short silence. When the golden mare does respond, she speaks plainly, factually, and admits to being the only individual that has inhabited these borders for several months now.

I consider this, mildly eyeing the pretty mare and appreciating her frank honesty and unassuming yet bold behavior. She doesn’t seem to be afraid of me, which is good—right now it is of my least intentions to frighten anyone away. Still, I can’t help but wonder about her situation. She has obviously been involved with someone, presumably this Icarus, though his scent is stale and she seems to be left completely alone. While it is certainly none of my business, I pity her, and wonder what monster would leave a mare in her condition. I could not understand, but I imagine that if I ever become a father, it will be much different than this. I hope, at least.

With my black-laced sides heaving in a quiet sigh, I allow my posture to relax slightly, with the threat of an angered stallion now apparently gone. “Well then I must confess, I am in the market for a land myself,” my blackened lips coil into an expression that borders on mild embarrassment again, seeing as my intentions were probably clear to her already, “I was heading back to my mares, actually, when I came upon this place. It is very beautiful.” A quick glance is cast around, marveling again at the surreal beauty that lines this innocent land. Slowly my eyes trickle back to the mare’s face, my expression still reserved, but softer than before. “My name is Aeson, by the way.”

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The golden mare does her best to repress a slight shiver as a fresh breeze sweeps past. It would take time for her to become completely accustomed to the climate here – especially considering that this was about as warm as it was ever going to get. Of course, the lateness of her gestation didn’t do much to help either. Silver stands flick sharply at her distended barrel in a vain attempt to settle the restless child she carried. Nevertheless, she manages to keep her curled lobes trained on the stallion, eager to hear his response yet content enough to remain silent while he pondered.
Her hazel-coloured eyes do not fail to notice the subtle change in his expression. It’s hard to say for certain just what thoughts are whizzing through the stallion’s head at that moment, but she wouldn’t have been wrong to guess that her condition is likely to at least influenced some of them. Not a sole had ever asked about it – not any of the suitors who had gathered around her in the Homeless, nor Cael, nor Icarus when she had first arrived here. The draft brute had probably assumed that the child was Cael’s, and she wouldn’t put it past this stallion to simply assume that it was the spawn of Icarus. Dittany did her utmost not to think on it; her joining with Still had been an … unpleasant necessity but she had no option now but to deal with the results to the best of her ability. Not that it made her any more prepared or accepting of it.

A small smile graces Dittany’s lips as the zebroid makes his confession. She has to take some form of comfort from the fact that some stallions are at least trying to do right by their families. “It is that.” The maiden was used to a completely different terrain, but that did not make her blind to the beauty of this territory. She did not miss the striped stallion’s mention of mares either – though she couldn’t afford to jump to the assumption that any would be able to aid her in any way. Just because he had females did not mean that any of them had foals or knew what to do with them. Lungs expand and release a quiet sigh, her gaze still diverted to the surrounding landscape.”It’s a shame that the land has been so empty for so long.” Company was not something that Dittany had initially sought when she had arrived in these alien lands, but –regardless of her breeding – she is just a horse, a herd animal and instincts drive her to live alongside others. Mourning, anger and fear had driven her to flee from Still and had influenced her enough to remain in solitude for many long months.

Curled lobes flick round, turning vaguely towards the male as he introduces himself though her gaze continues to scan the horizon. “Ariadne Ditt- “ The Kathawari paused; she had forgotten herself in the moment. It had been a long time since she had come anywhere close to contentment and the formal introduction had automatically rolled off her tongue. A silent sigh left the maiden’s lungs before she turned to the male, conjuring a small –hinting on sad – smile before correcting herself. “And mine is Dittany.”
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I think everybody's nuts.
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Let me out of this dream.

One of my fluted ears rotates to the side contemplatively as the golden mare comments on the land’s emptiness. It seems a waste, really, to let a place to beautiful and sacred to go untouched and forgotten—but perhaps that is what is meant to happen. All the while the world is darkening, growing ever more corrupt and decrepit with every day that passes; maybe this territory wishes to preserve itself, but can it make that happen without a physical guardian at its borders? My brown eyes wander momentarily from the mare’s face, and I take in the soft rolling hills of green, the lush forests, the sparkling water, and the ancient proud towers. To think that it all has survived this long, it would be a dreadful day when it has all been for nothing.

I repress a sigh, instead pressing my darkened lips together into a disgruntled line as I war inside with myself. I don’t want to intrude anywhere, but by the ways things have been laid out, the former claimer of this land has all but left it abandoned. It is a beautiful place, fitting for the small herd I have gathered together. But can I be so close? The memories are only a day’s journey, and the last thing I need is for them to follow me as I attempt to seek liberation. Really, this situation is not foreign to me. For most of my life, I have struggled with both myself and others, between one thing and another. Why would time change any of that?

Lost as I am with my thoughts, I almost miss the mare’s slip-up with her introduction. As it is, her stumble gives me distraction, allowing me to emerge from my inner turmoil and focus on the present as I look back to her blazed face. A breath of silence passes as I eye her softly for a moment, though I dare not press the matter. Shaking my head slightly in a rough inclination, I attempt at a smile, though all that results is a shadowing unstiffening of my expression. “I’m sure the pleasure is mine, Dittany,” I note the subtle change in her expression. While a smile sits on her pale lips, it is not comfortable, nor does it reach her dark eyes—both features that I am much too familiar with.

Knowing that it is far from my place or comfort zone to pry, I do not fix her with an intense gaze that would be silently barraging her with questions. Still, I shift my weight uneasily, uncomfortable with this situation. Not that Dittany herself has given me any cause to feel this way, she has been nothing short of cordial, but the large circumstances that surround her are off. I mean, seriously—a mare heavily pregnant should not be so alone. I’m sure there are times when they need their space (I have heard of the hormones), but this—this is wrong. It’s not safe.

The length of my dark tail flicks once against my faintly-striped flanks, and my gaze flickers to the grassy ground once before darting back up to her face. “How long have you been alone, Dittany?” The question hangs for a brief moment before a catch myself, the muscles in my jaw flexing as I grind my teeth in self-reprimanding. “I don’t mean to sound so forward,” I attempt to correct my brashness, fighting to keep from rolling my eyes at myself, “but it’s just not very often that one finds a mare in your…position. I’d…like to help if I can.” I choose my words carefully, hoping that I don’t offend her, and managing to maintain eye contact rather than withdrawing into myself like I would like to right now. Nevertheless, I am sincere in my offer, and hope that if nothing else, she sees that.

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The smile which lingers on the maiden’s lips remains small, but does become a little more genuine at the stallion’s words. Dittany doubted that she would ever be able to be considered pleasant company by anyone again, but this hint of flattery provided her with some small ounce of comfort. Her dished profile turns away from Aeson at this point, her gaze once again thrown towards the horizon, half hoping that she’d see her homeland in the distance. But she wouldn’t; the deserts were too far from here and they were no longer safe for her Kin … not until that brute and his followers were dead.

Dainty hooves fidget briefly as the mare re-settles herself; the foal’s incessant squirming making her uncomfortable, though she kept her own movements to a minimum, allowing just her silvery tail to lash at her swollen middle. Dittany lent as little thought as possible to the burden she carried, but if she was honest, she feared the unborn child. It was the spawn of the monster who murdered her family, yet she would be expected to love, raise and protect it. She knew that there would never be a day when she looked at it and wasn’t reminded of Still or the loss of her family, and she feared that she would come to know pure hatred for her own offspring.

Dittany had never wanted to become a mother, especially not while so young, but she hadn’t had much choice. She wasn’t forced - but she knew that her line, possibly the whole Kathawari breed, was at risk of dying out. The prospect of becoming a dam at the time was made much easier by the knowledge that she would have had a huge support network, including mares specially chosen to help tend to both her and the resulting foal. An array of traditions would have help to distract her from any qualms she had and generally being made a fuss of might even have helped to spark a little excitement to meet her offspring. But now there was nothing.

“For far too long.” It hadn’t taken much deliberation to answer the zebroid’s question. Much of her time ‘alone’ had actually been spent while supposedly living within various herds, but grief had driven her to separate herself from the other equines. Silence doesn’t linger for long and Aeson soon ploughs on, though he is at least delicate when it comes to noting her condition. His words, however, are a stark contrast to Cael’s who had once told her that her predicament was not so uncommon. Dittany had all but lost faith in the equines of these isles at that point; in the desert, resources were rare, making all life sacred. Equines didn’t simply choose to breed on a whim, which meant that it was practically unheard of for mares to be abandoned once in foal – unless widowed, of course.

The mare wasn’t sure which herd stallion to believe, but it didn’t seem to matter so much now. Being at the end of her gestation and general emotional turmoil meant that the Kathawari tired easily nowadays. A few months ago, she might have turned him down or challenged him on exactly how he expected to help when he could do nothing to aid her when it came to the birth or actually raising a foal. Instead the golden maiden simply releases a small sigh. “It’s a kind offer, sir. And not one that I can afford to refuse.” Dark eyes sweep back towards the striped stallion, gently holding his gaze while she speaks. “I would humbly ask that, should you decide to claim the land, that you allow me to remain here until – well, until I have to leave.” Her gaze drops momentarily, silvery stands of her tail flicking against her barrel in response to the foal’s continuous movements. It had never been her intention to inconvenience anyone here, but it seemed that she had little choice but to take advanced of the pity of strangers.
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Let me out of this dream.

Dittany’s eyes wander to the surrounding landscape, and it isn’t long before mine follow suit. It is no wonder that the golden mare has lingered in this beautiful land; not that she probably has had much of a choice, given her situation. But I suppose if I had to be left alone and basically stranded anywhere, The Weeping Towers is as good as place as any—better than most, I would assume. After all, I would know, given that I had spent a large part of my youth lurking in the solitude, with only myself as company—alone for far too long. Not a particularly happy time for me, if you could imagine, but I think it benefited me in the end, at least to a certain degree. I might have ended up much more similar to my father had I stayed around.

The thought is discomforting to me, causing my dark lips to purse into a disgruntled line and my tail to flick irritably against my muscled flanks. While I’m sure he hadn’t been as half as bad as most seem to claim, he is definitely not an individual I would aspire to become like. It is interesting to see how the offspring that spawn from such a seemingly dark character can have an array of personalities themselves. My beloved sister, for example, is far more like her mother than our father. These musing have me mulling lightly over the possibilities that await me in my children (should that ever happen), and I suddenly fear for them.

Thankfully, I am not able to dwell on these prospects for more than a few moments. One of my fluted ears rotates in the mare’s direction as she begins to speak again, my gaze wandering back to her blazed face, almost in unison with her own actions as she looks back to me. Both of my ears perk forward, waiting patiently to see what she would say next—how I could help her. I nod my head faintly as she continues, not missing her hesitation to accept my offer. Not that Dittany seems to be an individual prone to timidity, but I gather that she has not had to accept the aid of others much before; or at least had a choice in the matter, that is.

My eyes remain on Dittany’s face even as she glances down momentarily, and I try to keep my expression as open as possible. Showing emotion at all is not something that is particularly effortless for me, but mares (especially my mares) have an effect on me and stirs emotions that few other things can. “Dittany,” I say and pause for a breath, trying to draw again her full attention, “You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like, even after, well—even after you are…relieved,” I pause, hesitating, before emitting a low chuckle from my lips at myself, both amused and abashed with my ‘delicate’ choice of words.

Flicking the long length of my tail around my flanks, I offer her a gentle smile before continuing. “I see no reason to throw you out. You seem a decent character, I don’t anticipate you giving my mares too much of a fuss,” it is said with genuine earnest, because I would honestly tell her straight up if I thought she would be a threat, but a humorous edge pulls at my lips as I attempt to tease her lightly, skewing my smile a little. However, my expression soon sobers somewhat as I continue, “Unless you’d prefer to leave, of course. I won’t hold you here.” I add quickly, figuring it would be an important fact to throw out there. I don’t need her fearing me now. After all, I am not my father, and while pretty mares are certainly a treasure, they are not a prize.

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She wasn’t quite sure if she ought to be vaguely offended or amused by his choice of words. Even his chuckle was awkward, petering out into to silence shortly after being initiated. Dittany’s gaze lingered on the landscape a few moments longer, trying to drink in his words – his offer of a home and the protection of a herd – without responding, giving herself a chance to give it some rational thought. This was a place that she never foresaw herself standing in. Still had not, by any stretch of the imagination, been the ideal bachelor but he did at least value the mare for who she was. He had knowledge of the Kathawari breed, had an idea of their traditions, he would have ensured her protection and catered to her every whim – to ensure the prosperity of his own potential heir, if nothing else.

Her attention was drawn back to the stallion when he continued to speak, deeming her to be a ‘decent character’. But she wasn’t – at least, she didn’t see herself as such. She was disgraced, she had let her family down and broken tradition. Her judgement had failed her, she could have called off the arrangement before Still had tried to formalise their partnership with a foal. “I’ve learnt not to take anyone at face-value, Aeson. The hard way.” Her tone had become stern, much more so than she had intended. She drew her gaze away from the stallion again, forcing her lobes to turn forwards and waiting until the anger had subsided. It had been a long time since she had felt anything beyond grief, but she did not revel in the emotion - she had lost control of everything else, she could not afford to let her personal standards slip.

A deep sigh rolls from Dittany’s lungs, her posture shrinking a little as she calmed herself. The unborn foal clearly reacted to it’s dam’s sudden swing in mood, kicking and fidgeting all the more now as if it knew the situation of its conception and was trying to mock her now. The silver strands of the maiden’s tail lash against her sides as she fights the urge to fidget her own hooves again. Dittany knows full well that the striped stallion has been nothing but hospitable – he could have easily chased her off if he had wanted to, even if he hadn’t claimed the territory, since she was in no state to put up any resistance… but she couldn’t quite settle herself enough to offer him a meaningful apology. It hurt her pride to be living off the pity of others, and as grateful for it as she was, she couldn’t find any relief for that pain while she was still in such a pathetic situation.

Silence lingers for a few seconds more before her lips part. “When the time comes, I will make my decision.” Her word were quiet, but spoken clearly enough for the stallion to hear. Only once they had lingered in the air for a few moments did Dittany turn to the zebroid male, her gaze not quite meeting his. “Good day to you, sir.” Her dished profile was inclined – only very slightly- before she turned, taking up a steady pace and retreating into the safety of the timbers. She knew that he time was coming, perhaps only a few days from now she would be forced to face the result of her joining with that beast. This was her last chance to take advantage of solitude.
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