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"I haven't been able to meet as many as I should," Midas turned gaze to her earthbound ones, aware that she couldn’t see his attentive nod though lowered lashes, "I am not the most social of mares, I'm afraid. I'm rather shy." Understanding mixed with pity took opportunity to soften his heart for honest company—she was such a sweet girl; easy to get along with, and as soft spoken as a spring rain. Though, she was different from others, pure yet mature and not as naïve as air brained fillies who bore a likeness in attitude. Slowly he reacted out, muzzle extending to try and brush hot breath across a nearby shoulder with comforting intent, “Give it time, a promising spirit shouldn’t have any problems making friends.” Tone sought to lure her pretty eyes upward in hopes that she would note gentle reassurance. After all, he mused said lass wasn’t alone anymore. He and all others would stand beside her, as a friend, as a family, and as a supporter. Flowers eventually surrendered strength to bloom, all they needed was enough time and care; she would be no different. Or so he reasoned. Everyone would become more active when spring came again, people tended to draw inward among themselves as the temperatures took liberty to plunge. Features brightened with new ideals forming in his conscience, Midas added wistfully, “When you start apprentice duties, folks will flock to you and request healings of cuts and scrapes,” smiling, “you’ll be so surrounded by needy people there won’t be time for the callings of a wall flower.” Working. That was his answer to everything. When emotions flung out of control, or anger tempted his spirit to be hateful. Duties were even his answer on matters of love. |
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