The white mare wandered closer, as if to meet her.

Nym's nostrils flare a touch wider in response, drawing in a scent that reminded her of the north (where she had met Ophelia and Ktulu and played tag in the snow) but overlaid with a fresher, richer hint of pine, the aroma of warm bodies. A herd? Bright, red eyes flicker and jump over the stranger's pale body, searching furtively for the signs of companionship (groomed fur, carefully arranged feathers, that sort of thing) but coming up without much in way of answer. The grullo unravels her sinews, rearranging muscle into a more casual fit—unconsciously mirroring Elsa's comfy posture.

In the back of her skull Lilómiel probes away, his thoughts weaving swiftly through her's. For a brief moment her eyelids drift, almost in an expression of agony, over her red eyes—and then she hides away her quarrelous temper and goes sanding off her impatience's edge. No, she scolds herself. I will not act like him. She will not fall to such petty means as to constantly meddle in Lilómiel's head, to dig through his thoughts and pry apart his "private" memories.

Privacy. Ha! That was rich.
Any semblance of privacy was long written off by the invasion of her dragon's beliefs.

Somehow the pale mare has gotten much closer. Now she's on the sand, her head lowered, eyes like polished sapphires gleaming with an almost tender light. Nym's breath comes a little too short, a betrayal of her anxiety, but she stays focused. Be polite. The pegasus was being kind—and she needed to return it. If not with actual kindness, then with... courtesy. She scrambles for something nice to say, but all she finds is cruelty tainting her tongue, resentment in her thoughts.

I'm not a girl. Defiance twists Nymeria's youthful features, a flash of arrogance and condescension and pain tearing through her composure before she clamps down on the brittle emotions.

It hurts, not being with Mother.

"They took away my mom," the dark girl responds, and her heart aches to say it. I want her back. She wants—she wants mommy. She wants to curl up against Confutatis' flank and sleep beneath her hooves and be with her brother and be safe and gods why didn't she get to have that? How many levels of fucked-up did you have to be to take away someone's parents? Not even parents—sole parent, only mother, whose only purpose was to raise herkids? How could they do that? How could they get away with it? Confutatis hadn't done anything! She had only protected Volterra and Nymeria.

And suddenly there's grief written all over the filly's features and she can feel Lil's thoughts rubbing up against her like a cat against a leg, a dog licking her metaphorical face, trying to clean up those messy, messy emotions.

But he can't.
Eyes close, brows squirrel together. I will not cry. Mother didn't deserve a crybaby for a kid. She could be strong. She would be. For mom.

"I don't care about companions. I just want my mom back."

nymeria

what's a king to a god?