Guiding the alphaic, castaway horse from the Castle’s stable area to the outskirts of the kingdom, Astrid had a beautiful ride into the past. A old, heavily worn brown cloak that scratched the skin like dry wood, her dress that of a scullery maiden who scrubbed the floors of bars and inns- a dark corset holding her waist firmly. It was familiar as it was comforting in its discomfort. Astrid got out often from her “place”, not that it minded her King. He valued face, and she valued curious living. The brunette guided the strong stallion across the Tradian sand, throwing her leg over his back and hopping off as to walk alongside her companion of the unexpected excursion. She stayed by his side, closest to the water so that her bare feet could feel the cold wash up her ankles, caking the bottom of her dress in salt. She held onto Batue’s dark mane to make sure he didn’t slip away from her, as they walked together across the shoreline.
