[It's hard to tell time in the city where it is always light, illuminated by twin suns in perpetuity. It has been... some time. A few days. Since her hooves started to ache and crack. It was fine. (Hah.) Shard-bearers didn't die.
There is very little in her stall that makes it seem like a person, not a horse, resides inside of it. There is a spare robe hung on a nail on one wall. A withered, dried up... is it a string of flowers?, on the nail next to it. Her bow and quivers are hung beside them. And that... is it, beyond the simple bean pillow that she lays her head on.
The sound of footsteps approaching, the voice closer, too close... her tail flicks angrily over the wood shavings.]
no subject
There is very little in her stall that makes it seem like a person, not a horse, resides inside of it. There is a spare robe hung on a nail on one wall. A withered, dried up... is it a string of flowers?, on the nail next to it. Her bow and quivers are hung beside them. And that... is it, beyond the simple bean pillow that she lays her head on.
The sound of footsteps approaching, the voice closer, too close... her tail flicks angrily over the wood shavings.]
What guest? I didn't invite any guests.
[... Where had she heard that voice before?]