**oh-ho-ho, but you make me laugh. might i say, well done? a derisive snort emits, a contempt-filled and dismissive flirt o' patrician crania signifying that she was not impressed. there's one that enters with the claim to being a jester, but you must beat all, intrepid, and for that i laud you. though my intentions may not be what you had hoped for...? pray, don't claim the moon's spotlight. you don't deserve it. but well, well, well, i retract my threat of exiling you. you're far too funny to lose. unless the sight of your fleeing backside is even more humorous?**

.dry.

**thank you, intrepid, thank you. you're quite a pretty puppet, though you do try so hard to put some grandeur into that rank. please breathe, my dear brave child. i'm afraid you're far too uptight to be a proper fool, ne? you dance with a unique - ah, shall i dub it - style, and one that invokes endless mirth, however bitter, within my breast. what i find most amusing is how you struggle to retain some shreds of dignity. goodness, mare, use your spine and your brains. i was mocking you when i asked you to dance. did i really want you to go pirhouetting about in the foliage? heavens, no. it's a metaphor, my dear. or don't you understand the finer points of literature?**

.dear me.

**with the mental equivalent of 'rocking back onto her heels', if such were feasible with an equine's anatomy, she leans back to survey the retreating mare with intense amusement, scathing and caustically laughing inside. a hint, child. i can afford to be haughty. but you...oh, this one could prove wonderfully funny. much fun was to be had out of this intrepid...*

~siren~