The soft sound of unshod hooves on stone and light blowing of a not so eager mount was the only sound out side of Longden castle. Perhaps it was the large ominous castle, or perhaps those who resided with in, but whatever it was, the ghost that was the white horse, wanted nothing to do with this place, his steps became more and more hesitant the closer his cloaked rider urged him. The rider, as ghostly cloaked as the horse, barely moved, small silver white gloved hands were entangled in the just as silvery mane, no saddle or bridal adorned the horse, mere body movements held the small rider to his back as the stallion threw his head, ears pinning and he snorted, his steps halting altogether just outside the gates to the castle bridge.
His rider finally move, shifting, just slightly, on his broad back, white booted feet edging ever closer to her horses flanks. The stallion stiffened, ears pinning even more, teeth grinding as if chewing on some invisible bit. Then with a gentle but swift kick, the rider had the stallion moving again, loping across the bridge, his powerful, high kneed stride eating up the distance as if it were nothing. The cloak of the rider billowed over the horse's powerful rear, muscles coiling and uncoiling. The two seemed to almost float as if a true apparition was approaching the castle.
She knew he would know she was there. He would have seen her long before she crossed the gates. He would have felt her approach, like she had always felt his. This could be one of the worst mistakes of her life, but it was one she would make on her own. Things had not gone as well as she had hoped with her life, it was time to take back some of the control she had lost. The horse slid to a stop at the bottom of the massive stair leading up to the castle doors. Her gaze traveled up them, flowing over its every curve. For a long moment she simply sat there, then finally Maria Eriko dismounted her horse, the stallion rearing beside her just slightly before prancing a couple steps away and finally coming to a stand still, still chewing and throwing his head as if a tenuous link held him firm in place, he would not leave his rider here, he would not go without her.
Maria laid a hand on the upset horse's shoulder just for a minute, then headed for the stairs, pulling her silver white cloak about her, her white soft leather boots hardly making a whisper on the stone stairs. She paused again at the door, here she could smell it, like the smell of copper blood, it was tangible, the smell of fear, pain, loathing, and death. And like a junky she inhaled it all, closing her eyes, savouring its every nuance, then finally she opened those odd colored eyes and reached for the door. Her white gloved knuckles made contact with a soft gentle knock.
His rider finally move, shifting, just slightly, on his broad back, white booted feet edging ever closer to her horses flanks. The stallion stiffened, ears pinning even more, teeth grinding as if chewing on some invisible bit. Then with a gentle but swift kick, the rider had the stallion moving again, loping across the bridge, his powerful, high kneed stride eating up the distance as if it were nothing. The cloak of the rider billowed over the horse's powerful rear, muscles coiling and uncoiling. The two seemed to almost float as if a true apparition was approaching the castle.
She knew he would know she was there. He would have seen her long before she crossed the gates. He would have felt her approach, like she had always felt his. This could be one of the worst mistakes of her life, but it was one she would make on her own. Things had not gone as well as she had hoped with her life, it was time to take back some of the control she had lost. The horse slid to a stop at the bottom of the massive stair leading up to the castle doors. Her gaze traveled up them, flowing over its every curve. For a long moment she simply sat there, then finally Maria Eriko dismounted her horse, the stallion rearing beside her just slightly before prancing a couple steps away and finally coming to a stand still, still chewing and throwing his head as if a tenuous link held him firm in place, he would not leave his rider here, he would not go without her.
Maria laid a hand on the upset horse's shoulder just for a minute, then headed for the stairs, pulling her silver white cloak about her, her white soft leather boots hardly making a whisper on the stone stairs. She paused again at the door, here she could smell it, like the smell of copper blood, it was tangible, the smell of fear, pain, loathing, and death. And like a junky she inhaled it all, closing her eyes, savouring its every nuance, then finally she opened those odd colored eyes and reached for the door. Her white gloved knuckles made contact with a soft gentle knock.