Either she had found a sweet spot along the unicorn's frail withers, or December had been correct in her previous hypothesis, because there was no arguments against her gesture, simply a shift that soon gave pause beneath her lips. She was tedious, ever so gentle against the tender spots of her braids and working the knots out expertly with a driven confidence. Her eyes nearly fluttered closed to the soft breathing of her companion and the presence of Carl pressing into her hip, when soon that gravelly tone was reaching her ears once again. Placing more weight on one foot more than the other, she soon began working on her actual coat now that her mane seemed to be in better shape.
As soon as the laughter ceased to exist in the quiet foliage, December paused by letting her chin tenderly rest against the dip of her shoulders, eyes studying the back of the shorter mare's head,"What you're implying is that you aren't something, or someone now. The outside changes nothing about the inside, only how you perceive yourself." Her lips found the soft white again, being ever so tender along the patches of dried skin, her eyes studying them with a hint of concern. It was too dry for her to be so exposed, she most likely need some sort of balm to place over them in order to heal, but December had no idea where to begin with that.
Miykael had only taught her so much, and how to help a crusty loner prevent bed sores was not on the top of the list unfortunately. She sighed to herself, beginning to work the dirt out of a specific spot gently, before casually speaking again through each break of her cleaning,"Are you ready to tell me your name now? I'm sure you must want me to call you something." She waited patiently for her response, knowing sometimes not everyone was so willing to volunteer information. She didn't know how this woman had come to accept her presence and befriend her, but the ivory lass couldn't help but be content with the results. Making friends was not a strong suit for her, in fact she most likely didn't have any; now that Midas was dead and Rostislav had been gone for, gee, at least a year. It was lonely, and she couldn't rely on her mate to be her only company, yet her lack of social confidence left her often wandering alone awkwardly, searching for something to keep her occupied.
Carl didn't help with making friends either.
His ears flattened at that sudden thought, but a warning snort from the mare left him quiet, his head gently resting along her hip opposite of his new interest, taking a few moments to peek below the swell of his bonded's belly to peek at her every so often, before going back to chewing on an interesting piece of cud. The wind howled around them, snow only skirting in along the edges, small bursts of dusts that barely tickled the edges of their hooves. Yet if one had gone out into the storm, their body would be coated with the intense ice and brutal harshness that Frostfall brought. As much as December longed to be in the center of that storm, to feel the cold nearly freezing her to the bone, she remained patiently next to the woman's side. She obviously needed her here, whether it was for warmth or company.
"No one really talked or acknowledged me until I met my mate," she volunteered the information easily, voice unwavering and full of nothing as it usually was, as she had finally finished her job of cleaning up the dirt and twigs, leaving at least a somewhat more pleasant-looking white in its wake. She would blend much better into the snow than herself; December thought. In that moment she felt a minor twinge of envy. She decided to keep herself pressed close to the elder, warmth radiating off her like a furnace as she turned to look into the wrinkled lines of her pale complexion,"As you've more likely than not gathered; I'm not an emotional equine. I never will be. It's not who I am, and I've accepted that. Others have not, which often leaves me alone to do whatever it is that I please. That had been okay with me for quite a long time." There, in the deep pools of liquid steel one would find a flicker of a emotion; a small spark of sadness that often dwelled in her dreams of what could have been.
"Even that can get lonely after awhile. Others choose to avoid you because you do not fit into the standard mold of society. It's a wrong and awful thing to do."
Talking.
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