It was apparent that she had misstepped, and for a moment her bright eyes flicked between her mother and father. In her juvenile mind she tried to retrace, replay what she had said or done to find a fault. She tried a change in posture first, taking a step back from her father and letting her sharp gaze give way to something more demure. It seemed she was to be outdone by her bold brother, and before she could have a second try Libertad interjected his own delightful additions to the family conversation.

The filly let out a delighted peal of laughter at her brother’s antics, little hooves jumping as her amusement bubbled through her body. Cobalt eyes gazed adoringly at the grey colt. Everything that Libertad said was, naturally, endlessly amusing, and of course everyone and everything was ugly and smelly compared to his perfect self. Her father wasn’t too bad, she thought, as far as others went, and his case was helped in d’Arcy’s estimation my his resemblance to her. The lightheartedness was short-lived, for Nyx’s rebuke fell swiftly on her son. She gave a swift little squeak of surprise and distress as if she had been nipped herself hough the admonishment was directed at her twin, the girl sobered immediately.

As much as Libertad always talked of protecting his sister, d’Arcy was scarily less protective of him. Like a shot she moved trying to wedge herself between her mother and twin, She sent a swift (though perhaps not so subtle) shake of the head at her brother before looking up imploringly at her parents. “Apologies, it was wrong of us to speak so.” It was a shimmering gleam of the diplomatic potential the girl showed now and then—she certainly showed no wish to be a fighter like her brother, too messy.

She cast around, trying to think of a way to change the subject, hoping her mother would forgo further admonishments (however trivial) to her brother. She fixed her gaze on her father again and sent a deceptively innocent smile. Once more, she was ignorant of her own power as it stretched out from her mind; the desire that Déodat like her forcing out the tendrils of dark magic toward him. “Mama has not taken us North yet. Is it very different from the Edge?”

[ooc:: Déodat's turn for d'Arcy's dopamine shot. Sorry for the wait my lovimies! back in Michigan now and ready for ALL the posting!]

it's bloody and raw
but i swear it is sweet