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Appearantly the little filly is alive, Maren concluded after a quick peek. The small pegasus had just moved her wings away from her face. Somehow her heart itched of adorableness for how the foal almost mimicked her (even though it was a perfectly healthy reflex to have) but Maren's silent eyes showed nothing of any emotion. She was no mother, and she did not wish to be seen as such - But that did not mean there were no instincts and emotions of the kind, for she was blessed a mare by the Gods and she cherished all that came with it.
So the filly was okay; but that still did not mean the Ice-princess was, mentally. A frown hooded the tigermare's burgundy shaded eyes. The Bold was, however, sweating enough to make her think she was also physically pushing herself, which - again - got her slightly worried. Making it rain ice-spikes and snowballs with the angry, rattling lightning bolts she had created, must have taken that much energy. But the cling she had heard was definitely real, and after some more drudgery by the one seeking, there came more and more clings following up the first, jingling a melody through her ears. Maren's ears shot forward, however, as the mare suddenly came out with something else besides snow in her mouth. Something solid; something reddish - rusty, like her own coat. Maren swallowed the gasp that was about to break from her mouth. That's neither a bird or a bunny. It was shapeless. "Interesting find." she sang to the seeker - now a finder - as she walked towards the object covered with the dusts of time; laying again abandoned in the snow, as if it hadn't had enough of that already, looking out of place. She sniffed it, but it had no scent she could immediately discover. The tigermare looked up, realizing the Finder had found more of those same-looking objects. Maren only blinked at the puzzle-pieces - then glanced at the Bold, and then back at the puzzle; which she had the urge to solve. "Look out for sharp edges" the tigermare mused absently to the rust-wrapped thing as her mind was filled up with this possibly ancient artifact - and her heart pushing through those also ancient motherly instincts.
So she got one of the medium sized pieces in her mouth and she did - tried. For as much as she had been good in puzzles her whole life - the puzzle of her life was the one that she could not seem to figure out and put together. The tigermare wagged her ivory tail as her gaze focused, excited eyes glaring at the scattered and still coming pieces, when she found two that could possibly fit together. She kept shoving the artifacts around for a bit, thinking in the meantime.
This feels like those therapy sessions all over again, familiar feelings - But her life had never easily been fixed like this blade was. But then maybe life was just not meant to be a puzzle - or to be a perfect fit at all.
Maybe the tigermare was not meant to look at what was, what had been until this moment in time; in her life and forming her life, - not look at what was what was and not look at what was suppose to be. What she herself expected her to do; which was to find that Purpose for the Church of the Oak. Maybe - just once - she needed to look past the tree, and rather than watch the leaves grow, look into the sunset that made them.
@[Tempe], @[Roskuld] || Notes: || Wordcount: 605 ||
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