they want rain without thunder and lightning



Oh mum, she's beautiful. Cassiopeia smiled in unrestrained agreement. She was certainly beautiful, in a disarmingly pure, innocent and fragile sort of way. It reminded her of Cirrus, the way she had been on the day of her birth - such a delicate, beautiful moment. "She reminds of you, Cirrus. It may be hard to believe now, but at one point, you had been just as small." She flicked her daughter an expression of affection. They were oh so alike, apart from the way her eldest had been slightly larger. She thought back to that day at the beach; to the veins of scarred flesh which now streamed down her neck and barrel like rivulets of ebony rain. Could that attack possibly be to blame for the slight difference in size?

A short lapse of time slunk by where the frail damsel struggled to collect her spindly legs beneath her. They simply would not go in the direction she wanted them to, and she devoted her full attention to thrusting her fore-body upward, suspended by her two front legs. She directed both of them in front of her, and swiftly drove herself forward. For a moment, she had succeeded in the endeavor, hoisted weakly, small tremors causing all four pillars to quiver beneath her weight.

They were not unaccustomed to the burden, having been virtually useless in the womb accept when a sudden surge of energy caused one to flex, usually triggered by the sound of her mother's voice or that of another. Whatever fleeting semblance of success the filly may have felt, was short lived, for almost as soon as she had risen, she began to gradually descend. All four legs spread out in different directions, and bit by bit she was lowered to the dusty loam.

Cassiopeia, amused by the spectacle, though also repleted with admiration, nudged her haunches encouragingly. "Come on little one. You can do it." Her thoughts swirled back to the instance when Cirrus had been confronted by a similar dilemma, surprisingly not so long ago. The true enthrallment and sentiment of the moment had never left her, just as this moment which be eternally entrenched into her memory until her dying days.
It was moments like these that made life worth living.

Determined, she tried again, and this time, she remained standing, swaying side to side as she sought to keep her balance. Her nostrils flared with each respiration, trembling as puffs of smoke billowed from them, her lungs sliding smoothly beneath her roaned hide. It was a significantly diluted balance, wobbly and unsupported, and yet she managed to maintain it. Soon enough, however, gravity would prove its effectuality once again, and she would be forced to try yet another time.

It felt like only yesterday Cirrus was learning to stand as well. One day, perhaps, Cirrus would have a foal of her own. She only hoped she would have the chance to see it for herself.