Själ

Protection - it was a concept that her mother had learned far too late for it to be any good, but to the princess it came willingly, a deep instinct that presented itself when a threat was perceived. Her mother had been pompous, arrogant, self-assured: in other words, the DarkEmpress had been emboldened by her own perceived strength. Never had the Queen imagined that she could fall, and the surprise made her demise all the harder. The Princess, however, had been cradled in a bed of suspicion, swathed in a blanket of misgiving, had faced the harsh reality of her mother's failures (though she never really knew how the dark mare had failed, only that she had lost much as a result). If Mother could be hurt, so could she - and so, too, could any friends she made along the way.

The lightning boy - the self-proclaimed badass - was easy to like with his upbeat demeanor and outgoing ways. Never had she seen a soul that so easily accepted, without question, a new thing, be it a person or a place or an idea. It was easy, too, for her to return the favor, and she wondered again if this was what friendship felt like. Either way, the older colt had made an unwelcome, tactless advance on her friend, and though the girl knew little of diplomacy and less of kindness, she responded the only way she knew.

If it was mean, what she said, she was unaware of it, blinded by her desire to offer some strength, some consolation, some defense for her friend. Her youth and naivete did not offer a vision of a future in which she would not offer aid to the lightning boy, did not warn her that not all friendships lasted, and she clung only to the knowledge that he was the first and only being to ever offer her unconditional kindness. A lump rose in her throat at the realization that even a stranger was kinder than her own family had ever offered to be. For the first time, she wondered if following in her mother's footsteps would be a bad idea.

For the first time, she wondered who she was, not who she had been raised to be.

But the older boy was nonplussed, and the girl began to fume. Her ears flattened against her skull and she glanced to Zèklè. She did not like the older child, but she would not attack without reason - another trait that set her apart from her icy mother. She lowered her gaze, seething, momentarily defeated as her friend stepped forward (betraying, in a way, their easy alliance). But she liked him, and she liked the feeling of camaraderie they had shared, if but for a moment, so she raised her eyes again and watched suspiciously as he offered the metal to the inquisitive boy. You don't have to, she wanted to say. He can't make you. But she held her tongue. Instead, she pressed her nose gently to the lightning child's flank, offering silent support.

Talk.

@[Zèklè], @Adelric - I'm so sorry for the wait. Life ate me and I've had a really hard time getting things in order and actually having time or energy to sit down and focus!