clouds are spitting dust.

Myrika Tears · 01-19-2012, 08:37 AM

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Rambling again. ;_; <3 Sorryyyyyyy ilu

Myrika is by me!

The rusty woman offered a smile and nod to Vesper's comment. In the woods, horses were far less useful -- their bigger bodies made navigation difficult, and a frightened horse might dart beneath a low-hanging branch, catching its Luperci rider in the face and knocking them to the ground. Myrika herself had been thrown from a horse once, and she knew firsthand it was absolutely no picnic. Since that event, however, she had become far more adept with handling her horse and the lesser animals in general. She had begun considering the low speech talents, though she pondered the usefulness of learning dialects that could be as different as the many foreign languages of the Luperci. She might always encounter a horse she count not communicate with, after all.

She laughed and nodded earnestly. If the horse was willing to charge, most definitely. A skittish horse would run away from a Luperci faster than charge it, though, she said, hoping to assuage some of her scarred companion's apparent dislike of horses. Eira? Maybe, she said, glancing again in the direction her blue roan had disappeared. Myrika then shook her head, again smiling faintly. It's brick, where most of these are wood. No basement, either. It will fall eventually, but hopefully, that'll be years and years after I'm dead. I -- maybe, I don't know. I don't mind company, but I don't really like the idea of living on top of someone else in the mansion or right beside someone in the caves, the woman admitted, shifting her forepaws in the cold ground awkwardly. I would like the mansion more than the caves, though, she said, honest enough to admit such, but still wishing she didn't offend her conversational partner.

It's just -- I was raised in a cottage, near a village. I'm more used to human-styled dwellings. I'd love to build my own someday -- I think that's a fair compromise. Made for a Luperci, by a Luperci, but with some human technology, she offered, pondering how her companion might take such a remark. Myrika did not appear too frequently in her four-legged form, though she was not entirely averse to it, as some might be; perhaps Vesper was amongst this latter group? Myri did not know, of course, but she already felt as if she were defending herself. Not that she minded -- it was always interesting to hear alternative perspectives, and she rather enjoyed debate, even if it involved her own life choices. Vesper wasn't proselytizing, in any case, which would have irritated Myrika; she could handle gentle ribbing and even downright disparaging, but to insist some other way was the only true path -- this the russet-woman's bane, and she hoped her scarred companion did not walk this road.

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