They feel isolated, as though they exist in a world separate from the mare and the god, invisible yet encroaching, unable to stay or leave. Torn between fascination and agitation, the girl and her brother listen attentively as the winged beings speak, wilting beneath the rising emotion and taking heart in the Earth God's calm. They have never encountered him before, though they thought once that his son might be their friend; they find him different, soothing, a stark contrast to the power of the Sun God and the mystery of the Moon, a father, perhaps. She can see why Hototo loved him, and even as he ignores her in favor of Ampere, she is not discontent.
The God speaks of wars, of chaos, and the pair listen closely, Natraj pressed against his sister's gold leg, Tandavi's black eyes flickering between Ampere and the Earth. When the blue mare speaks, it is in a voice more still than she has come to expect, weighted with levity and consideration- and yet her words are wrong, so wrong, and the girl balks in the face of them, shocked. Greed, war, death, enslavement: black eyes meet gold, and the girl knows that her brother is stunned, appalled at the idea that companions might be so misused. A horrible thought creeps into her head. Does Ampere think these things of her, that she would so mistreat her best friend, her kin? Is that why she was greeted with such hostility, rather than the camaraderie they had formerly shared? She can't, the boy assures her, fierce. I love you. She can feel his anger, so rarely kindled, as well as his affront: does the blue mare believe he to be so weak, that he and his kind might let horses simply use them?
Caught by her surprise, the girl does not speak: a for once a fortunate occurrence, for in her anger she could only sputter rage. Instead, the Earth God fills the silence, the stability of his deep voice keeping her mind in check. She listens again, though less impassively now, wondering how this deity will explain to Ampere the error of her ways, and wondering, though she dares not admit it, if Ampere is right. Are she and Natraj really such a rare case? Is the norm for abuse and advantage, cruelty and control? She thinks to those she has met with companions, and knows this cannot be true: Sacre and Inari, Fajira and Lace, Mirage and Aikath. Even Kali and her mother, who would call the gryphon "brat" yet still, the girl knew, loved her fiercely and with all her heart. In the light of all this affection, how could what Ampere said be true?
The Earth God speaks and the boy nods, his fierce gold gaze glaring up at the mare. Flames flicker dangerously at the end of his tails, as if daring her to doubt him, to think him weak (to the outsider's amusement, no doubt, for the short blue mare is still easily large enough to crush the kitsune in a misplaced step). In the boy's anger the girl listens attentively, fascinated by the history that the God lays before them. She did not know that dragons were the first to bond, or that it was created to give orphans life. She thinks of Natraj and the day he hatched: barely a babe, her mother had told her she must care for the cub, for he was her brother and had nobody else. She has never dwelled long on from whence he came. I came with you, he tells her matter-of-factly. That's all that matters.
The pair wait for the mare's next question, boy and his sister watching in silence, one eager for the mare to be schooled and the other simply wanting to learn more, to understand.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[P] Should I Believe In The World Momma?
