There was a great many things to love about horses. One of the most important things, currently, was the lack of terrible decisions. Terrible decisions in her mind, of course but currently: it was all fucking awful. Be among their own kind? What good had that done them at any point. There was problems with the Inquisition but at least they had done something for them. She wouldn't be alive without the Inquisition and with an already shit lifespan on her hands that meant a lot. There wasn't anything here for them, certainly not her and Maker be damned if she spent another day here.
Grabbing at her crystal, she considers contacting Avery just to hear the other woman's voice but ultimately decides against it and leans further against the young mare that she has befriended in an attempt to hide away in one of the stalls. The Paint lays on the ground, dozing away and allowing Ciri the chance to both sit and relax. Once again, she turns a flask over in her hands but this one reflects ice instead of fire. A sign of a better mood, perhaps?
Ciri soon has additional company, of course. Inessa soon follows, Garahel at her side. The mabari closes the gap first, letting out a soft whine of sympathy as he plops down and leans against her a little. The slight elven woman does the same, substituting the whine for a deep sigh as she settles in and forces herself to tune out everything else. They can be bitter and untrusting together, at least for the moment.
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after dinner
Grabbing at her crystal, she considers contacting Avery just to hear the other woman's voice but ultimately decides against it and leans further against the young mare that she has befriended in an attempt to hide away in one of the stalls. The Paint lays on the ground, dozing away and allowing Ciri the chance to both sit and relax. Once again, she turns a flask over in her hands but this one reflects ice instead of fire. A sign of a better mood, perhaps?
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