Maren had not seen December’s Llama before, which was perhaps caused by his camouflaging back-drop) but it certainly did make her ears curl towards him as she was momentarily intrigued by its curious shape and seemingly so fluffy hide. At some point, however, the mare’s golden eyes turned back to the tall white mare. Surprisingly, even though it was frostfall, she could almost immedialty see the surely so frozen mare... melt. Maren watched how they connected, which was nice to see; them being so friendly. It caused herself to feel less pressured. Like she could at least be her own self and not having to think about compensating some part of herself with kindness.
Because she wasn’t like that. Her silent eyes weren’t frozen, wouldn’t melt — they were just that; silent. She had fallen through the bushes, into the open where she watched the llama shoot dirty looks at the foal. Maren couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. Somehow it seemed like she was witnessing a quiet power struggle. To be or not to be — To do or not to do, that was the question. Maren simply nodded to Carl out of respect once his name fell.
She liked a lot of things: tea, sunrises, fireflies, the way moonlight reflected in water, she even liked having certain relationships, but — she couldn't help it, she just didn't very much like foals. (That was of course except Erthë — Erthë was alright (such a hypocrite).)
But when the foal came her way to — she assumed — ‘introduce’ herself, her muscles tightened around her body. Maren stood frozen as the child poked her elbow. —But you are not Erthe, the thought echoed like a crow’s screech in her echo-y mind. Her neck stiffened as her head pulled itself as far from the soft, muzzle of the foal as it could. Upwards. The Diviner swallowed loudly; the awkward lump of air visibly moving down her throat. "Oi, child..." she finally managed to get through her clenched jaws. "You are crossing the line here..." She did a step back, away from the nuzzling. "You see —," she attempted to explain carefully, understandable and somehow still polite. "I deeply value my personal space." Having won back her circle of required area of free room, she let her un-comfortableness go with a sigh. As she did, her gaze fell down to the foal with thoughtful, burgundy shaded eyes, not really knowing what to do with this situation. Why didn’t she talk? Was she only capable of giggling? However, suddenly, as if she'd thought of something (she did), a smile carved its way over her lips once more while Maren started to blow victory-circles of fog out of her nostrils (shamelessly attempting to use her mists to keep the filly's attention). Maren stretched out her pale, striped neck to get her face closer to the newcomer once again. "Let's make a promise, okay? You and me both keep a full wing-length between us — not my wing length, your wing lenght — and I promise you we will both benefit from it in the future."
Right.
That was that.
Kids; easy right? (Há)
December spoke again, explaining the Hidden Falls a bit more in detail. She had been there before, so she was sure the tall girl spoke the truth. Yet, Maren did for some reason not like the fact that December called the Throat merely a “decent place to live”. It was more than just decent. And, for some reason, she wanted to tell her; How fucking amazing it was to live there. How gorgeous the Oasis shimmered at sunrise. How cozy the holy Fire was that crackled every hour of the day and night. How nice everyone was — and that the Dragon’s Throat probably the safest place was in the whole of Helovia. The truth was, somehow a competitive spark was growing inside her head. As if she needed to win over this child (who she wasn’t even sure could understand their language in the first place).
She swallowed as she watched December with calculated expression. She parted her lips, as if she was about to say what she thought to the full-grown mare. But then she remembered something vital — Something perhaps just as important as the safety of the filly’s young life.
She didn’t care how much December had melted for this foal. She didn’t care that she would be breaking the promise to herself she just made, that was to keep a wing-length of distance between any potential clinging foals — She didn’t care, because she needed — her mind needed — this win; this relief; this chaotic world to know she was still here. One way or another.
With her still opened mouth, she turned her eyes — shimmering with sudden excitement — to the young girl. She pulled up her brows very high and said very slowly, saying each word with care.
“— I have a boat. In exchange for your name, I would take you sailing.”
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