She had thought - perhaps, she had hoped - that she would feel nothing to see him; that in the sober light of day he will return to being a rather untrustworthy stranger, whose company she has agreed to suffer in a moment of weakness. She had expected to regret her choice to meet him here at all, as soon as he appeared, and was not the man that moonlight and dream had wrought him into.
It is not so; and she is not at all comfortable with the smile that creeps onto her own lips in answer to his, or with the warmth of a blush that tries to rise to her cheeks. She is not a silly child, to be so easily won by a simple talk with an attractive man; she is the Lady of Rohan, and she is made of sterner stuff. Or, at least, she should be.
"Windfola." She nods in answer to his question, but looks at him only from the corner of her eyes, as though to shield her expression until she is sure she has it under control. The horse, unaffected by the strange turmoil she feels, whickers and noses against her shoulder. "Is he not a handsome beast?"
The horse. Obviously, she's talking about the horse. What else would she be thinking of?
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sforzinda
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Date: 2022-01-23 11:48 pm (UTC)It is not so; and she is not at all comfortable with the smile that creeps onto her own lips in answer to his, or with the warmth of a blush that tries to rise to her cheeks. She is not a silly child, to be so easily won by a simple talk with an attractive man; she is the Lady of Rohan, and she is made of sterner stuff. Or, at least, she should be.
"Windfola." She nods in answer to his question, but looks at him only from the corner of her eyes, as though to shield her expression until she is sure she has it under control. The horse, unaffected by the strange turmoil she feels, whickers and noses against her shoulder. "Is he not a handsome beast?"
The horse. Obviously, she's talking about the horse. What else would she be thinking of?