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[Skipping as per 48 hour rule]
The flash of light sent volts of jilted electricity running through the shadowmere’s blood; she started violently, her eyes and senses assaulted by the flash of flame, and suddenly the scene before her was garishly painted in her pupil: A white mare who spoke words of kindness stood in the heated shadow of the child who burst into flame, a frail creature who sported the graceful, dignified wings and horns of greater creatures while exhibiting none of their inherited poise. Indeed, the child bolted for Circe’s breast, lodging its face and body as close to her heart as its horns would allow—and though the shadowmere’s instinct to bolt from the blast of flames threatened to overpower her, she stood quite still as the babe sobbed into her coat, thinking it was best to reign in her own terror in order to sooth this child.
*"..dark and..and something moving and then sand.. and, and trying to eat me and then.. I.. I want my ma.. mama!"*
Circe’s eyes still stung with the afterimage of that ferocious fireball, yet her heart well and truly broke upon listening to the youngling’s sobs and hiccupping phrases. She didn’t think—there was no time to. Instead, the dark mare affected a voice that she hadn’t used in a long, long while—not since her own sons had found within themselves the wanderlust to drift further and further away from her milk and her shadowing embrace. “Shh-shhhh-shhhhh….” She crooned softly, a throaty, breathy litany of warm, balmy tones, lowering her head slowly to gently touch the child on his shoulder, the line of his spine. “Hussssh, now, little one, you are safe. You are…” She moved with an intrinsic tenderness that had ingrained itself upon her psyche whenever she handled fragility such as this--she attempted to crane her neck over the child and press them into her a little bit closely, for maybe proximity would finally convince the child of its safety.
“What is your name, little one?” she asked mildly, her words burying themselves into the down of their wings; she hoped her questions would distract the fledgling from greater terror. “How did you find yourself in such a place? Where is your mother?” The grey mare that she had glimpsed was certainly not forgotten—the shadowmere kept an ear carefully trained in her direction, looking out for her movement—but for now, she was a slave to this child and their misplaced comfort and happiness.
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[O] For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do
