Private Next In Line

[Jhimara]

The creatures living in Jhimara's lexicon have fur and flesh that is quantity known. Whorls and striped pelts could be attributed to those who hunt. Soft-spots and single-shade hides designate what can be hunted. There was little to none of that to recognize in the red smear of viscera under her boots, no matter which angle she looked at it.

Poked at with her toe.

There among the red was a single slough of black and cream, some far-away and fly-covered memory of the mare who had disappeared two nights ago. Jhima stood over it, comprehending the outcome of what laid before her but not the action that preceded it.

A hand rubbed the elbow opposite. Dumbfounded.

After some time she returned to the Wagons, delivering the unwelcome news to the nearest tidings-tender as though it was a parcel plunked on a doorstep. "Somethin's butchered the missing nag," Said through tight teeth, a barrier against the urge to spit. "I'll find us a replacement in Astenvale." Hopefully something less swayback. Didn't need to be a horse, or even have hooves. Jhima couldn't deny that she was eager to upgrade the quality of the Wagon's existing stock, but great Gobinh, not at the cost of the weak being picked off from the pack and torn asunder.

*​

The dead mare was still a fixture in her thoughts, the mess of it bleeding into her expression as she crossed into Astenvale proper. She was unconscious of the unfriendly curl of her lip until it was given back to her in kind by a local. Her lip immediately turned in, half her teeth exposed in a smile. An overcorrection, perhaps, but it drew just enough of the local's curiosity. Merited her a nod. A pinched nose gaze that posed the question - what brings you here?

Not to impart any further unpleasantries, Jhima accepted the wordless offer of assistance. "Stables?" She asked out loud - what was needed, and nothing more. Not wasting time.

A point in the right direction, exchange complete. Jhima clicked the chestnut at her side forward, a faithful young thing brought along to pony whatever manner of beast the woman might bring back with her. Vyn, in a limited interaction prior to leaving, had asked for a dog. Even if it was in jest, she was keenly eyeing the side streets. Surely a sodden mutt was out here in need of warm feet to lay close to, or children's cheeks to lap at.

She did not hide her interest, or motive, as she meandered around the stockades. Nice and slow. Hands in pockets, leering over stalls, tut-tutting at what was housed there. Wearing her best bargaining face, hair slicked back.

"Not much to choose from. They keep the mean ones somewhere else?" She clucked at a stranger lingering near the tack stand, aware of their eyes on the back of her neck as she peered into an empty stall. Not only empty, but long empty. No straw in sight.
She tsked.

 

[Arbok]

~"Not much to choose from. They keep the mean ones somewhere else?"~
Arbok picked up on this, the new woman was looking to buy.

"Well, what do you expect?" She jested "The mean ones get taken to the Monastery. They make better warhorses at least that's what Dani says and she knows horses."
She ought to, running the Astenvale Stables and all.

Moving from the stall she sidled up beside the woman with the very nice earrings and tried to look like she held any authority which she did, she supposed, at least until Dani got back from the blacksmiths.

"We do have some and they're good, friendly. I could show you if you... like?"
It was the strangest feeling that came over her then, a kind or heart tingle that roused itself to her brain through her spine, like a chill that was warm but it meant something, she knew without knowing that this woman was like her, that she could change her form.

"Oh wow, you..."
She checked herself and out of nervous habit thumbed the strap of her dungarees up around her shoulder which led her to reach for the back of her head.
"Sorry, I um..."

The feeling didn't stop and it was beginning to get familiar, like she was about to change right then and there. Her head looked up and checked the sky, daylight was still strong over the clouds and she remembered the next eclipse was still supposed to be a month away, it couldn't be happening now.

Taking a breath, she tried to ignore the mare and her colt in the far stall who had begun to get spooked as she let the feeling pass through her and fade back down her body like static dancing on her skin as it made its way into the ground.
Emerging from the sensation was like stepping into the light of day all over again. The world seemed sharper for a moment as she let her eyes focus on it, on the stranger and she forgot the conversation they were about to have instead offering her arm to this new woman in greeting.

"I'm called Arbok, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

Her smile was wide and honest as she looked down, her hand was dirty and worn with toil that was just as honest.

@Jhimara

 

[Jhimara]

She knew a thing or two about instant connections. Kinship was there in the halos of dirt around knuckles and wrists, a hand to match her own with calloused grip and testing strength. Jhimara set aside her shrewd posturing and took it. Squeezed with warmth. Her gaze lingered a little too long on the scars, and felt the rope of one somewhere in the woman's palm. Arbok was someone cut from her own cloth, but whoever did the cutting was sloppy with the shears.

"Jhima." Giving the short version was a way of being affable, she supposed, as though a handful of syllables made such a difference. She nodded in the direction of the mother son pair, clearly still uncomfortable in their pen. The tension in Arbok's body, something that had come to the surface for air and then retreated with nary a ripple to show for it, had not gone unnoticed. It would, however, go unmentioned. For now.

"Mean's cheap, though." She toyed, voice relaxed and twangy. Country charm.

"If you have friendly, work's already been put in to make 'em that way. I can't afford the cost of labour. I can break a mean one for free." Her head tilted towards Arbok. The scarred woman's hair was long, with a slight wave, as though freshly unbound from a plait. Pretty, touchable. Jhima felt a stir of envy. Or something else. She bit her tongue.

"How far is the Monastery? Would you say it's worth my time?"

 

[Arbok]

"Hmm?"
Arbok's mind was trailing behind the conversation. Jhima's earrings caught the light just right to glisten and catch her eye.
What were they made from to sparkle like that?

"Oh, yeah."
She broke off the handshake almost reluctantly, the memory of it still held in her palm.
"Well..."
Turning her great torso to look towards the two horses she half smiled, half pondered. She had not any real experience *breaking* and animal. She didn't like the implication of the word. Nature shouldn't be broken.
"Those two, they uh..."
Or broken up!

The monastery, she had to go back anyway, delivery was made already. Without thinking, without being conscious of it Arbok took a slight leaning stance towards Jhima before snapping back to face her wearing her widest most unassuming smile.
"Absolutely, the monastery is definitely worth your time! Shall we go now?"

She reached for her, hand half raised expecting Jhima to slip into it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"There's a few that just arrived and they are pretty mean."

@Jhimara