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THE fae child was not feeling superb today. Her wings did not flutter with their usual joy. Her little body refused to hop from bush to bush. It was the morning after the search party, where no one had noticed her very much, yet again. Not that she could blame them, she was good at staying out of the way. She'd been very quiet since Mother left because they all always seemed so busy and worried about important things. She didn't want to cause them trouble with acting sad or asking for help. Who wants to seem like a crybaby anyways? But the game was getting old. The one where she followed around the adults and hid in the shadows.
Today, she had to admit that her scraped up little legs (From the adventure to her mom and back) were kindof annoying. Ok, they hurt worse than a mouse probably hurt getting picked up by an owl! She was trying to be strong because, though it had been dark last night, the adults had noticed her a little bit and no one had gotten upset. So like, if they hadn't made a fuss about it then she should just try to be strong and trust that everything was ok, right? The puffiness and weird yellow stuff would probably go away on its own. Plus, Mother had tried to help a little when she'd seen them. They were totally fine.
Her stomach rumbles in protest of her denial.
An inhale, a sigh, and a sudden ambush by a tickle on her nose! She wiggles it but it doesn't go away. Laume stares at her scabby legs, dejected, and knows she can't use those. "Oh well." The tickle stays but at least its a distraction from needing to find food. Mother had seemed pretty interested when Laume had headed back to the Edge...maybe she'd shown up in their thicket? Her feet tread to the spot, her voice comes, "M-Mom?". Nothing. There were no new smells of her, no signs that she'd been there to wait. All her effort, all the time she'd spent on her trip, it had gotten her nothing but scabs. She was never going to be good enough. She always did everything wrong. Her chin begins to wobble.
Mom hadn't come back.
She wasn't a horrible mare, Mother, she just was a little...distracted. She cared. But the thought pops into her head again, unbidden, that she'd had to be the one to find her mother and not the other way around. No matter the emotions the mare had shown or the well meaning words she'd still let Laume leave on her own. She'd not come back with her. "No, she doesn't care. Not really." Then, suddenly, she realizes that she's back to where she was when she'd left to find her mother, the one horse she thought she'd be able to turn to: scared.
Laume was scared and hurt and tired and alone and that chin wobble erupts into full on tears. What was she supposed to do? She'd no one to help her, no one that wasn't too busy or distracted or put-upon. Her dirty and too-thin body crawls under a young, low-lying pine tree for shelter. There the sobs quake her tiny body all the way through. Her head lowers under the weight of trying to survive when no one cared if you did or didn't. She curls in tighter on herself. Even the birds in the tree, startled by her distressed noises, leave her in annoyance. There was no lullaby anyone could cry for her. There were no words which could console her. No one could stop the decimation of her little soul now. Words were pillows made of air and the reality of abandonment was a cold, hard floor rising up to meet you.
OOC: Tilney first and then Ros can enter whenever after(Maybe after he heals/she responds once?
"words words"
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