Even as the mother showed her concern for her foals, calling them back to her side, I felt varying shades of emotions running through me. Wistfulness. Envy? Sadness. Had I returned to Helovia with the hopes of reuniting with my family? Of connecting with those who share the same blood as I, who know my past (well, most of it), who love me unconditionally, and I them? I didn't even know if that was true any more. Did I still love my family, even though they were no longer around? My father was dead, my mother - who knows, my sister - I secretly hope and pray that she is still safe and alive, and that she would forgive me for being so.. Absent and aloof.

I smiled as I watched the interaction, this time a bit more genuine and true as the emotion played across my face. Clouds lazily drifted across my hide as they did across the sky above us, and I lowered my tiara so that I could demonstrate how little a threat I offered to them. Of course, I was forever ready to become defensive if the need ever arose, with my spear hidden away amongst my plumage, always within reach of my strong jaws to wield it. There was a time where I barely used my spear, for I felt secure enough in the safety that your presence provided to me, but that time has come to pass. Now my spear may as well be as attached to me as a unicorn's horn is to its brow, such is my dependence on it.

I continue to step towards them, nodding my crown and allowing a small flutter of cherubic laughter to exit my charred maw, as the colts bump against one another, folding their wings awkwardly to their sides after the breeze I unwittingly spurred dies by my command. My leonine tail sweeps the dried grasses of the Meadow beneath its elongated tendrils, as I playfully motion to the colts to dare to step away from their mother, to greet me properly, to have some fun and live. My ears listen to the mother's introduction, learning the names of the trio before me.

"The wind," I reply to her query with a smile, this time encouraging the breeze to stir around me again. Another angelic lilt of laughter plays through my maw as I lift my wings to revel in the smooth strokes of the breeze. My smile still firmly in tact, I ask Brisa kindly, "Have your handsome boys begun preparing for their first flight yet? They may be young, but preparation is the key to success." Though the boys were pegasi in appearance, I could wager a guess that they were hybrid, as the mother did not look like she had adopted them - her udders were heavy with milk, and they were too young to be weaned as yet, so I could conclude that their father bestowed the genetics upon them to allow their eventual flight. I wondered if their father was as adept as my own in teaching flight to his kin, or if he was one of those steeds who keep their distance..

[[ I don't mind being tagged :D @[Brisa] ]]