Arya

Arya looked at the stallion almost with surprise. Why did she cry? Was he so blind o the corpse that lay at their feet? For a moment the child had no answer and she simply shrugged her shoulders. In many stories the heroes killed monsters and their enemies, but the creature before her wasn’t evil looking or even remotely monstrous. Really it looked like it could’ve been quite friendly. All of it would be forgotten though as she began to chatter on and on. Many a time, her father had hushed her gently, and said she often ran her mouth swifter than the wildest winds. She simply had many questions and there was no reason for them not to be asked and answered. For the world was a brilliant place filled with wonders that she had yet to see and in her young mind adults had all the answers.

As the strange red stallion answered her first question Arya giggled a bit. “So it just didn’t hurt physically.” She couldn’t grasp why so much was weighed upon the pair of nubs that were growing out from her head. Such things were but glass spikes and nothing more. Weapons she had concluded in her mind, pulled from the stories her father told. She paid no mind to Odette who crawled forward to snatch the meat that had been offered to her gladly. At the question of her father the child looked upward as she wracked her brain for the name of her father. Before she could answer, another filly strode up. The filly couldn’t be much older than herself and yet she declared herself the eldest of the pair. Had Papa ever mentioned a sister? Their time usually was brief and consisted entirely of stories so she supposed there never was time to mention a sister. Unlike the other sister, Mirabella simply felt curiosity. The child’s attention had always been wrapped up in her mother and she knew full well that she was her mother’s treasure. In the end, the first born could be the prize of her father, Arya had no need for men’s approval.

Arya watched as Odette flung herself at the other child, her tail wagging a million miles an hour. Arya cocked her head slightly and shrugged ever so slightly. “I would assume so if Déodat is your father to.” She blurted out. “Though my mother is Hotaru.” There was pride at the mention of her mother. None were held in the position that of her mother and would dare her sister to speak ill of the women that treasured her so.

Her gaze flickered toward d’Artagnan as Mirabella asked how to acquire such creatures. “I do love a good story!” Arya said practically bouncing on her hooves.

@[d'Artagnan] @[Mirabella]

If I look back, I am lost