Existence [closed to Yvonne]

[Yvonne]

Relief washed over Yvonne like a cleansing rain. Departing Radasanth and leaving its hectic activity behind felt liberating. The deep dwarf was still acclimating to her profession - a merchant trader - and to be successful meant basing one’s centre of operations in the busiest of cities. She would be travelling to and from Radasanth often in future, but stress pervaded the day-to-day affairs there and being free of the rat race every now and again was more than welcome. Her mental health seemed to require equal parts business and pleasure.

Not that their journey wasn’t about business; it was, but riding through rural gardens and flourishing farmland was all too easy to enjoy nonetheless. The black pony beneath her maintained Mead’s pace despite his smaller stature, though she assumed considerable difference at a gallop. There was little need for strenuous endeavours of that sort however. Even though both riders felt urgency to be on the move, unless a threat arose better to set a pace both animals could cope with over a long duration.

The irony that Yvonne was a wee woman in the saddle of a little mount had not been lost on her.

The half drow, half dwarf missed the added height and feeling of dominance which Mead afforded her. Sometimes she thought she could take on the world if only she had the chestnut palfrey to lift her up and support her diminutive figure. Without, the realization that she was a very small person in a very large world came to the fore of her mind. That said, much as the half-and-halfling couldn’t change her size neither could the sable pony which supported her now, and she couldn’t hold it against him. His eager attitude and kindly spirit more than made up for his stature. The beast and the rider weren’t so different.

Yvonne listened carefully to Vixen’s words, her gradual explanation lending importance and weight to them. The steady treading of her mount rocked her gently in the saddle, but she balanced herself with his movements, remained stable where she was. Shifting her weight in the saddle the dark-skinned dwarf steered the pony around a puddle ahead of them, without need of pulling reins.

“Reuniting ye with tha crows ye wish ta find will be its own reward, but far be it from me ta turn down a present,” she replied, a smirk of contentment alighting her dusky features. Vixen hadn’t given much away, as was her way, so the hybrid mind filled in the blanks with assumptions for now. Her thoughts drifted to gifts she had never received before, ruling out monetary sums and other valuables. She supposed it could be something sentimental, to remember the white lady by, or perhaps it wasn’t a material object at all.

“What do ye know of Akashima, Vixen? I only heard of a rumour or two about the nation while in Corone,” Yvonne confessed, amending, “and tha way ta tha border of course.”

The ride through the countryside, with the beginnings of a forest on the horizon, relaxed the dainty guide completely - her mind examined deeper thoughts and philosophy. As she stroked her pony’s raven mane she asked Vixen another question, one less practical and more theoretical. Her questioning had a tendency to pry into sensitive matters and could cause offense, but there was no derision to her tone. Only respect for the white woman and honest-to-goodness craving for understanding.

“If we seek them, which of us be lost? We or they?”