Author:
Catalina de la Mor
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Date Posted: 00:38:31 11/25/01 Sun
The spry young maiden enters, her chocolate tresses springing off the shoulders of her emerald greatcoat as she skips zestfully across the threshold. Her luminescent face is swallowed by the bright smile that distends from ear to ear, and her honey-colored eyes sparkle with the gentle warmth of six-year-old naiveté.
She waves ecstatically to the stable workers, her fingers just barely visible beneath the cuffs of her oversized jacket. "Bonjour, mes amis!" she calls gaily to them above the light hullabaloo of their undertakings. A cheerful laugh flourishes throughout the expanse of stalls as she skips down the aisle that separates them. A large white stallion, whose head is draped attentively across the half-door of his cell, with both ears perked as if he had actually been listening to her, immediately arrests her attention.
Catalina stares at him for a moment, then floats closer. A tentative hand reaches out from underneath the flaccid cuff and gently touches the silken muzzle of the stallion. There is a moment of oppressive silence, where even the working hands seem to stifle their conversations, until he snorts into her dainty palm. She laughs.
"How are you to-day, monsieur?" she queries, her fingers lightly stroking his nose. "You are a pretty fellow and I should like to ride you, but the Lady Géorgie says I cannot. She can be such a tiresome person, I tell you, always giving me stern commandes and saying that I must learn to be a lady! By the way, have you a name?"
(OOC: Ugh! Someone--a hand or something--give him a name! And *maybe* introduce yourself to the young lady?)
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