Challenges

Desiree Noelle · 05-03-2011, 03:15 AM

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Date: 05 May

Setting: Northern Dampwoods, perhaps ten miles due west of Dawn's Breath.

Time: late evening (~8pm)

Character Form: Optime

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There. Sorry I didn't get this done before you logged off. Sad

Desi tugged on Fuerte's mane, urging the big grullo stallion to a grudging halt. She shook her head, exasperated at the equine. She had only had possession of the horse for about three days, and she did not even try to kid herself into thinking that the stallion liked her. More likely, she mused, Fuerte was merely waiting for the perfect opportunity to knock her on her rump and go running back to J'adore, his previous owner.

She had traded three bottles of red wine for the lovely silvery-tan stallion. Personally, Desi couldn't help but wonder if she had come out ahead in the deal; she had never before seen a horse of such elegant lines. His mane and tail flowed like silk, and they seemed to crinkle from root to tip, casting beautiful highlights on every strand with each toss of his head. Everything about him looked and felt exotic to the colliewolf.

After pausing a moment to be sure the horse was not going to randomly take off, the femme dismounted, keeping firm hold of the lead rope he wore on a simple halter. The femme had opted to ride bareback, the better to become accustomed to Fuerte's movements, and he to her, the differences between J'adore's heels and her own, but after nearly a full day in the saddle after not having ridden since she was with her mother on Galilahi, Desi was beginning to see her folly.

Sighing wearily, before scenting the humid forest air, Désirée was pleased pleased to find little sign of others about. There was a pack nearby, but she was not on their turf; neither was she riding way too close to Inferni's borders. And it was pleasant here in this damp little forest. The evening's arms were drawing around her, and it was quiet but for the sound of the breakers against the sand, coming from some miles off to the southeast.

A smallish tree proved sturdy to her weight, and Fuerte's rope was tied around its girth with enough slack for the steed to move a bit from side to side and to move his head downward to crop at the grass beneath their feet. Then the femme flopped happily to the ground, her eyes closing in relaxation as the night grew dimmer around her. This was the life.

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