kid

She catches herself before she makes a grave mistake, my eyes solidifying at the prospect of what she almost says— father. Riiiight. You mean that stallion I've never met before? Lemme just pull up my dadar real quick and see where he's at! No biggie (wow sarcasm through the roof). "And where do you think I'll find him? Should I follow his trail of bastard children?" Of course I don't know if there's anymore of us (in reality, there's going to be a small army soon enough), if Volterra can control his urges or if he's a madman with no limitations on how many women he beds (you think someone would tell him to keep it in his pants).

— But really, did this woman actually think that I could summon Volterra and ask him what the earth god was like? That as his progeny I have a magic tracking device that lets me find him instantly? And why ask something so random? Why not be like, "hey dad what the fuck why am I just now seeing you where have you been all my life?" Not, "wow so the earth god?"

Her explanation is brief, a prolonged pause inserted in the middle as she seemingly struggles to find a describing word for the deity. I'm quick to catch the silent seconds, ears twitching in response to the silence that fills her sentence. "Why the hesitance? It can't be that hard to describe your own father? Perhaps she feels distanced from her father because he's a big wig deity and he doesn't have time for her, or maybe she just hates associating with him? Whatever it is, I'm going to be nosy about it (probably shouldn't be but oh well).

I nod my head, shrugging my shoulders in defeat because as much as I'd like to jump into an argument and tell her that trees don't think and gravity doesn't live, I just don't have enough care for the subject. Let her justify her uselessness if she so wishes— it isn't my problem that she's potentially never going to fulfill her purpose (wasn't she just preaching about her necessary creation?) So I'll let her think that eventually she'll find some ultimate reason that she was given life, let her drag on her existence until finally she comes to the understanding that she cannot just sit and wait for her purpose to present itself to her— she must look for it. But I won't tell her that, she'll probably say something to counter it.

What a weird name (I say with a name like Kid), but perhaps fitting. She could pass as a mountain with her staggering height, although the real question was— "What do you know?" If she's a mountain that knows, certainly she must know something spectacular to earn such a title, or have a vast range of knowledge. And I have many things that I'd like to know, so I'd best ask my questions quick before this mountain gets annoyed and squashes me.

The Mountain nods along as I list briefly the general topics that could be discussed with children, swallowing thickly the guilt mid nod before taking a few seconds to release a gentle sigh, peeking my interest. What makes her swallow her dread, and what makes her sigh? My eyes squint subtly, peering at the taller woman as I try and look over what I'd said (is she reminiscing her brief youth?), wondering what it could be that made her react in such a way.

Her rank title (the Storyteller) can be misleading— and she even states that at a time it may have been required to weave fantastic tales of history and the like to share among herd members, but it certainly wasn't now. She would share these tales, but she would not put a little magic (if you will) into them, leaving them to be harsh realities rather than sugar coated dreams that make heroic, just kings and evil sorcerers. And this makes me wonder, how much history does she know if she was born only a few seasons ago? Maybe her father has shared harrowing tales with her, given her a run down of Helovia's past experiences, or she's sought out others to tell her such.

"Well of course it isn't, there's certainly plenty of other factors." This I can barely elaborate on, as my lack of knowledge of fighting keeps me from listing more than just 'strategy and ability'. Size does matter (haha), and it can serve as an advantage or disadvantage in terms of fighting— on one hand you can move quickly, but your strikes won't be as damaging, or you can hit hard but struggle to move fast enough because of your bulk.

I catch the mistake again, narrowing petal pink eyes with displeasure at her mess up— correcting herself but not quick enough for me to miss the mistake. "You can just call him my father if you're having trouble." Any expression has since slipped from my skeletal features, gaze shifting dismally to the shrugging wings— I'd noticed her quickly dismiss any possibilities of Volterra living with Nymeria and the Mountain, as if by somehow not adding in that he didn't live in the Falls would've given me hope that maybe he was among the members there (to which I had no interest).

"Talk."