Isla
Isla has let her pebble blues move back to the colt and the mare as they talk, finding something calming about the simplicity of all of this; travelling through the rolling landscape, ushering a mischievous animal back to safety. It's the sort of life that whispers sweet nothings to the tempest of her thoughts, promising a quiet mind for the first time in longer than she can remember.
"With the Refuge, I imagine they are a little easier to sell than before," she remarks; with people so close by, she means. His bark of laughter earns a grin from Isla that risks a flash of fangs, and her head turns slightly away from him to disguise it. "The books really got it all wrong," she agrees. "I was - I mean, the unicorn I knew certainly had a mind of her own. And it wasn't virginal or pure."
"With the Refuge, I imagine they are a little easier to sell than before," she remarks; with people so close by, she means. His bark of laughter earns a grin from Isla that risks a flash of fangs, and her head turns slightly away from him to disguise it. "The books really got it all wrong," she agrees. "I was - I mean, the unicorn I knew certainly had a mind of her own. And it wasn't virginal or pure."
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
