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D'Arcy steps in immediately to protect her twin, and despite her embarassment Nyx finds a grin fighting its way into life on her jaws. That's my girl. Protecting her brother, putting her body on the line...it is a sure sign that the filly will become a fine young warrioress when she ages, and that's exactly what Nyx wants. She fixes both children with her stern glare, but makes no move to continue with her punishment. Libertad doesn't apologise, which earns him a roll of her eyes, but she says nothing else - if her children are as stubborn as she, then demanding an apology will only make it less likely to appear.
The filly asks her father if the north is much different from the Edge, and Nyx finds herself absently nodding even though the question is not addressed to her. The Basin, in all its snowy, icy glory, is the polar (no pun intended) opposite of the warmth and sanctity of the Edge. For one horrible moment, the ironheart wonders if her children would debate leaving her to live with their father - she quickly quiets this worry, though, because even if they do express such a desire, it could do them good. Not that she'd want to lose their company, but spending time in the frozen wilderness could lend hardiness to their young bodies and sculpt them into fine warriors. The blood bay stallion's words bring a chuckle to the steel soldier's jaws. "Fair point." Tact isnt something she excels in, after all. As the twins' sire describes the Basin as a sanctuary for the crowned of Helovia, the mare stiffens and a frown etches itself onto her face. She does not want racist offspring. It's something she can overlook in their father, because to each their own, but her twins...she does not want them bound by hatred for the other species, when the Edge is filled with all colour and creed of horse. Although it's ultimately their choice whether they want to be racist or not, she doesn't like the idea of Deodat indoctrinating their young minds just yet. But, she chides herself, this is what happens when you bed a racist. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. It's a disturbing thought, and one she'd rather not dwell on right now. She focuses instead on Libertad's next words, chuckling at his description. "The cold north breeds strong, hardy horses, Libertad. Your father is one such horse, so the blood of the icicle runs through your veins." She flashes him a wink, her earlier ire forgotten. |
@d'Arcy
Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.
