Her darling is like an over-excited bird, flittering to and fro with too many wings, a cascade of feathers seeming to follow him wherever he roamed. Like the child he was, he was all down and fluff, but she loved him even when she woke up to feathers stuck in her own fully matured filaments. There was little her darling could do to make her irate with him. Muriel was a naturally peaceful mare regardless, and Brigand was the whole and center of her world. There was nothing more perfect to her, for her. He could likely become a mass murderer who hated her and she'd never be able to return the sentiment. Such was the way of a first born's gift, and the new mother could not help but fall into the trap she'd set for herself.

It still boggled her that somehow her heart, which seemed so incredibly small, could hold the depth of her love for her son.

He was a playful, energetic child. Sometimes it took the wind out of her, and she was nervous to play with him at times, so small and fragile he seemed to her. The mother inside her demanded she protect him, keep him from all harm, and so she could not always abide by the silent pleas she saw in his ultraviolet eyes. But water was a wonderful cushion, perhaps she could allow play for just one day? It was not that she desired to chain her baby boy, but she couldn't help but fear that if she wasn't there at all times, he would somehow wander into trouble and she wouldn't be there fast enough to protect him. It haunted her at night, and she dare not speak to Leliel about it, still rocky with him, not sure what to consider him any longer.

And still, she privately longed and worried after Gull.

The water washed away all evidence of her thoughts, and her laughter sprang free like a bird from a golden cage to see Brigand flounce and fumble into the water on his coltish legs. It sprayed lightly against her rose coat, and she smiled, bright and beautiful. For she was beautiful, inside and out, innocent and soft. A mother from a fairy tale, and yet she could never seem to see that of herself. Her boy was the only thing she'd ever made, ever received, that was something of value in her eyes. Gaze softened with that weight of love, of adoration.

One powerful wing twitched, springing and flaring the end of its flight feathers to splash her child with the water. Then she danced away, belly cold with the water that lapped at it, laughter trailing behind her as her eyes dared him to return the favor.

@[Brigand] So sorry for the wait, life ate me ;-;