The snow stirred around dark legs, fresh powder sticking to the thick hair that stands off of dark skin while the girl - blinded by her play-time - hadn't even noticed the winged man gallivanting around within the stone temple. The heavy curtain stood still against soft winds while the malnourished woman presses her dark nose against it, sniffing curiously to find a mixture of both earthly and bodily scents. Icy eyes batted against stray hairs, thin lashes carrying small flakes of snow before they dissolve against mild heat. “Oh, hello there… Adelis, yes?” A dark face colored in with a wide blaze peeks down at the mare who stands in the snow, molten pools watching back with a familiar sparkle. A quiet "eek!" forms in the woman's throat, her antlered crown turning to face the man she had met earlier in the season. "How have you been?"

      "Hi-" the mare squeaked, her voice muffled by another, equally surprised voice to her right. "Oh!" Wet eyes turn to a small splotched mare with stunning eyes and magnificent wings. Desire seeped from the uneducated girl's heart, her small bank of memories revealing the conversation she had had with the gold-flecked stallion so long ago. "I'll show you-" she remembers Bucephalus saying, his gentle, repetitive words begging her to eat. Once more uncomfortable in her own tight skin, the young woman shifts on all four, ears turned backward as she realized how bland she is set by these pegasi. "I—um, I’m sorry. My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt!" The stranger's bronze-tinted wings ruffled uncomfortably while she spoke.

      The brutt looked back and forth between the winged creatures, her heart thudding hard in her chest, unsure whether it was her turn to speak or not. So, she stayed silent, small ears now turning forward on either side of her rough antlers. Quickly, an image of Arvakl streaks through the younger sibling's mind, the fire in her eyes and the hot steam rolling from her dark nostrils making her fierce image even more terrifying. "I didn't do nothing wrong!" She can remember how hoarse her throat was, how badly she was shaking in the dark of the night, wanting only to hide in the sky, to rest upon the clouds in the sky.. just like Daddy had said the man did every night.

      Quietly, the broken doll looked back up at the painted woman, dark lips twitching into a friendly grin. Her thick forelock parted as it trailed down her face, the thickest portion riding the bridge of her snout, the rest hiding most of the gash down her curved face. "Your hair is pretty." she stated, peeking up with the innocent face of a child. The wind howls again, snow picking up from branches and the dusted ground, drifting in whirlwinds and chilling the land that surrounds the Rotunda enough to cause the rag doll to shiver. It hurt her sometimes, the cold. The dark scars that pucker her buttermilk hide and twist her regrown (and now white) hair ache during the night, not to mention the dull pain that targets her knees and ankles.

      Pain is all the small woman has known, but still she smiles at strangers and welcomes them into her heart.

"Speech"
@[Bucephalus]
No problem, the more the merrier! <3 Sorry for the wait, my muse did a hit and run last week I guess.