[PRP] The Schemer and the Fraud (Racardo + Marla)

[Lady_Ourania]

There was something to be said for rarely frequented crossroads at twilight, the way that the overgrown paths lit up momentarily with orange and floral pink promise before everything surrendered itself to night's tight embrace. Marla watched the swift changes from beneath a chosen canopy without comment, dull red hooves planted firmly as a statue, only the tendrils of her scarf giving away her position as they flicked weakly in the breeze. The air was no longer under the sun's command, a river somewhere nearby giving off a chill that wrapped around her limbs, made skin shiver without notice or care.

She had no appointments to attend, no grieving parties to regard with wavering contempt. The day had been used to sleep in the shade, and the time she spent among the stars would be strictly for travel. It was routine, uncomplicated and boring as a result. She couldn't stay once she'd finished a transaction, couldn't linger and wait for them to discover that her end of the bargain had been a well-played prank. But the mare found herself distracted, waiting and watchful with ears pricked, her mystic headpiece settled down on the ground beside her feet. The short, black mess of her mane was plastered to her cheeks and neck, the last remnants of a long-gone dream still exacting a tithe through old sweat. After a point, she'd grown used to the nightmares, the scrabbling claws that were not there, the murmurs, the begging lies. It was the waking, unseen things that she needed to fear, acknowledging that as she turned her focus outward, listening.

A whisper of sound and she saw the shadow separate itself from the tree's branch, wings spreading to welcome the darkness as it soared out. Marla knew of owls, had heard her mad mother talking of them sharply, their round, soulless eyes and the way they descended in silence to claim the unwary dead. It was a grim tale, no matter how it was relayed, ancestors packed into cold pellets and splintered bones, doomed to never cross over. Her heart made more noise than the bird, thumping in her chest at the outline of its horned, unshadowed head, taloned feet clenching, unfurling, at ready. There was a swallow waiting at the back of her throat, a tension budding against her jaw. Then a shrill, cut off scream that would have made the unprepared jump. And all that it carried away was a vole, squat body hanging limb between toes, gone before it knew what happened. Marla sighed long and low as it vanished, lulling the last of the foolishness out, rolling her eyes and reconsidering the four-fold path before her. So much for the medium gimmick; her mother really had been unspeakably crazy.  

[Syaoran-Puu]

Racardo exhaled heavily, he had had a close call today, he knew it but of course that wouldn't stop him. The kalona that had found their way into his trap had merely been an inconvience, a painful experience but an inconvience none the less. Sweat laced his form, creating droplets over his pelt and brow. He had been forced to run, something that Racardo disliked doing if he could prevent it. Forced to run from that beast and the trap he had set would put Racardo's plan back weeks. He exhaled again, this time finally slowing his pace.

His eyes automatically scanned the area. It seemed quiet, eerie in fact, but the good news was that the kalona wasn't following him. For the first time in what felt like forever he allowed himself to relax. He would need a new plan now, one that didn't attract Kalona's or other such beasts attention.... the question was, what? Racardo had been investigating a rare myth, that there was an animal that looks liked a lion and an eagle, the griffin... a creature from his fathers stories. His shook his head, surely he had better things to do but chase after fairy tales? But the truth was no, woman had started to become less and less of a challenge, and after a while their company would bore him; none of them seemed to be able to think straight -or perhaps that was simply the effect he had on them? And although he loved all woman he found himself longing for more. A challenge. Something he would have to work for!

He shook his head again, his medium length mane dancing around his head as he saunted forward, as always he didn't feel the need to examine his surroundings further. The Kalona was gone and he was sure he could outrun almost everything else, plus these trees had been his 'haunting ground' since he was born, he knew every turn and tree, every path and secret... and of course, the best place to wait and watch the ladies. He grinned at that, happy memories indeed. Still, Racardo wasn't foolish enough to ignore a strange sound when it reached him. His ears flicked automatically and he turned to seek out the source, his eyes were used to living in the darkness though he wasn't always able to make out everything -especially objects far away. Yet when his eyes landed on..... he blinked..... it was still there.... he blinked again.... it looked almost like, a moving shadow.

Not entirely sure what to do, unsure if it was friend or foe after the Kalona's apperance earlier that day. Yet Racardo couldn't bring himself to move away, not yet at least. That was reason why he found his hooves carrying him towards the 'shadow', and as he got closer he started to see details. Delicate features, slight form, gems glimmering in the moonlight.... but hair as black as night. Still, it was the form of a mare, unmistakable and beautiful. He grinned, it may not turn out to be a challenge but in his mind he believed that all mares deserved some 'Racardo attention', even if it was just for one night. He would settle eventually..... but today was not that day.

Approaching a little slower in an effort not to spook the mare he bowed his head, keeping his eyes on her at all times, as he spoke; "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" It was cheesy but he liked to see a mares reaction when he first met them, part of him always hoping that they would actually fight back and not just giggle and smile at him.

Racardo wanted a challenge. He needed to it.  

[Lady_Ourania]

Quiet as the stallion was in his approach, Marla was used to being snuck up on, her ears angling back, rust-colored irises sliding to their peripheries while she waited for a distinct figure to appear. When it was just a silhouette to tell by, she gauged them to be hornless, wingless, clawless and fangless, though the last was up for debate. Definitely alive, however, not some spirit with wanderlust and a desire to be seen; that much was obvious in the way the terrain responded to footsteps, sampling the prints of the living and unraveling from that of the dead. It wasn't until the moon dragged its fingers across the lines of his shoulders that she recognized him as male, full of holes that the night sky trickled through, made invisible where inky spatters covered whole tracts of him. Squinting gave her an idea of his full size, reaffirming her suspicions that he lacked any standard predatory qualities, gaze nevertheless lingering on where his jaws came together in search of glittering tips.

It was painfully clear then that he had already seen her, and that the chance to slip away silently had passed. The mare cursed internally, careful to keep the sentiment from her face. She preferred to be the first to spot, to engage or evade if necessary, but the antics of the owl and her own reminiscing had distracted her enough to earn some undesirable interaction. Resigning herself to the situation, she turned slightly to confront him, the clotted color of her bejeweled chest pulling starlight in, trapping it there to pulse like a second heartbeat. His leisurely gait made her doubt he was looking for a fight, but educated guesses about these creatures rarely panned out, and she had no desire to be taken unawares. Following that train of thought, she lifted a hoof to plant it nearer to her helm, less protective than taking the proper precautions. It would be difficult to find another if this one happened to be damaged or somehow misplaced, and it helped to cultivate a sense of mysticism that was needed in her line of work. He had no reason to be interested in it, but again, she was in no mood to be proven wrong.

Expression flat, she watched him come to a halt some short distance away, trying to gauge his intentions. It wasn't until he spoke that some of the tension slithered away, surprise giving way to amusement that warred with disdain for dominance. Was he serious? The advance was new, but unwelcome, and she barely resisted the urge to snort at his directness. Bowing again – were all colts taught this tactic now? And here she'd assumed that even artificial chivalry had long since vanished into the epilogues of time. The last stallion, Monoceros, had been a foreigner, a fluke, some holdout from an age where such gestures were common. This creature before her could not rely on that excuse, appearing comfortable in this land and in his skin, even if he failed to understand what he had just walked into.

Close-up, he looked young, though perhaps that was due to her brief acquaintance with age while it still had a chance to change, to accumulate years rather than enjoy a suspended existence in phantom form. Regardless, it was not her job to stroke his ego, a faint smirk making its way across her mouth at the very idea. She half-lidded her eyes to appear coy, smoky voice belied by a honed edge beneath her every word. "If I told you I had little interest in fools with slippery tongues, would you walk away before causing yourself further humiliation?"  

[Syaoran-Puu]

Racardo was almost sure she would simply not respond, and although it was probably arrogance on his part, his mind started to formulate excuses for her silence.... perhaps she was from a foreign land and spoke not of his native tongue? Or maybe she was simply taken aback by his masculine presence? It was probably because of such thoughts that when a reply did come Racardo found himself taken aback.... a moment of utter silence passing between them before he burst into laughter.

Well, he had wanted a challenge after all! Someone who wouldn't simply coo and awww at his presence alone.... he supposed it was true what they said, you really should be careful what you wished for. "Fiesty aren't we?" He said, a grin peeled upon his face revealing two rows of perfectly sparkling teeth. "Truth be told," He took a step closer, looked around them slightly in a mock attempt at surveillance before he spoke again, this time more of a whisper; "I am not quite as silver tongued as you might believe." He winked playfully at her, clearly not deterred by her standoffish attitude, it would take more than that to turn him away.... stubborn, that was a word his father often used to describe him.

Standing tall once more, but not moving back to his original position a step back, he spoke again with a more serious tone. "But.... and I hope you do not feel offended by the suggestion..... why is someone so beautiful out here alone?" Racardo knew how unsafe it could be, and his encounter with the Kalona early today was only a stern reminder that you could never truly let your guard down and consider yourself safe.

As Racardo waited for her reply he took the opportunity to 'inspect' her, a short mane and tail that seemed to made of midnight coloured smoke stood out against an almost luminescent pelt of purple... and the crystals upon her chest seemed to literally pulsate like a heartbeat. It was slightly eerie, but at the same time fascinating, Racardo couldn't help but wonder what she was.... or what she had been doing before his interruption. To say he was curious about her was an understatement, and as Racardo watched her he couldn't help but think back to one of his fathers bedtime stories when he was a foal.... of a sorceress of great power who had influence over the night. The idea sent a shiver down his spine, just as it had all those years earlier.  

[Lady_Ourania]

His abrupt flurry of laughter brought her chin up an inch, not exactly a defensive posture, but prepared to warp into something reminiscent of one if it was required. "I have been accused of as much," Marla replied half-boredly, deliberately aiming her gaze elsewhere in hopes that he could take a hint. If their first volley was any indication, she might very well be in for a longer interaction than she’d hoped. In retrospect, it probably hadn't been a good idea to encourage him to begin with, however minor her taunt seemed against the evident thickness of his skin. Unfortunately, it had already been declared a long night early into the midnight hours, and sometimes she genuinely couldn't help herself when it came to pricking overly rambunctious stallions that seemed to think they had something to prove.

Her eyes flashed back to him when he took an uninvited step closer, skin practically humming with awareness that was mere steps from completing its transformation into annoyance. Cheeky thing, with his winks and heavily portioned grins. At least from this range, she could clearly make out the herbivore-bluntness of his teeth, used for crunching grass instead of bones. The nebula-rosettes that scattered across his face and flank sank pieces of him into darkness, made the edges of him indistinct, but his golden stare glittered obviously in the moonlight, and he didn’t give the ground he'd seized. "So I'd gathered," she pronounced, not about to let up if he bore a similar refusal with his nearness. "At least we can agree on something."

The additional question was so unexpected that she gave up a sharp laugh, though there was little of actual mirth in it. "And would I be safer, were I ugly?" It wasn’t an answer, not really, but he could hardly expect one with a question like that. Marla had never considered herself to be of a particularly high caliber of beauty before - not because of some demure instinct, but because it was irrelevant. Decay took everyone apart as it pleased, no matter their outward appearance. It was pointless to linger and fuss over something so ephemeral. Beyond that, he really had no stake in her business, her endowments or how she spent her days. The solitary life of a medium was as comfortable as any nomad might expect, and she felt no embarrassment in continuing to exist as she had for this long. Then again, he was probably merely making yet another sloppy pass at her, in which case she was over-thinking the situation. "You shouldn't concern yourself with how I choose to spend my time, let alone what I look like while I'm doing it. I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."

Since he seemed intent on his newly found place, it was the mare who took a step back, hoof dragging her helmet along with her. From the slightly opened distance, she scoured him with another glance, lips pressing thin and hooking at the corners. He was staring in turn, as if he hadn't really seen her on his approach, and was just now taking in the details. Very young, she surmised from her previous thoughts, possibly an idiot, though the former more or less implied the latter. How she managed to consistently run into this variety of youthful and naïve stallions, she would never know. "It isn’t too late to take my advice. You know, the one regarding your humiliation? Would save us both a bit of time, maybe even preserve that ego of yours for future mares to appreciate." Especially since it was currently wasted on her.