Sheba. A name that somehow fit the vixen at her side, whose eyes seemed to now be watching December as she spoke, listening to every word as if she truly were interested. She didn't know if this was out of humor or reality. Letting her lashes flutter against her eyes delicately, she only kept her presence against the mare in order to keep the warmth, one ear in the direction of the storm to listen for when the winds would begin to die down. From the sounds of things they would still have awhile. This didn't sit well with December; they needed something more than just this place, perhaps food or even bedding for the white one; who would most likely need to end up laying down after some time. The ivory lass had a feeling deep within her that this storm was going to be longer than most, and thus she wanted to prepare.
It could wait until her companion was asleep though, and she would be gone for a few minutes and be back with bedding before she knew it. She agreed with herself mentally, ready to up and go until Sheba was speaking again, her words somehow piercing deep within her. She could agree to an extent, it was true everyone was lonely after some time, but she didn't think that family, friends, and love were distractions. They were what had made her whole again, and she wouldn't trade it for the world. Letting her expression meet the crone's, flickering over her face patiently as she softly asked, "What is your distraction Sheba? Do you have one?" If she didn't December would offer to be one. To stay by her side and bring her home to Miykael who would check her over and make sure she was in fact okay. She would introduce her to Meria once she returned, let her admire the trinkets in her mane like she always did over shiny things.
They would bask in the sunshine when Birdsong came as she watched Carl and her child play. Miykael would make kind conversation with both, and would check to see if Sheba's joints were not too stiff, because the shift between cold and warmer seasons was always the hardest on old bones. December would be able to laugh, to find comfort in some snarky comment the mare would make in response about him worrying too much, before she would blissfully doze because she felt safe enough to do so. They could be happy. All of them. Wasn't that something everyone wanted? Happiness? The possibility that Sheba truly had nothing broke her, not because of pity or obligation, but because deep down in her hardened soul she understood. Life was a tough game to play, and once you were losing you felt that there was no way to turn it back around. She could be the older mare's advantage, would help her through her loneliness and let her know that she too could be loved. In a way December was already making the mistake of caring too much, of growing attached to someone she had met maybe a few hours ago; but her mind was adamant that this was the right thing to do.
She wasn't going to let go of her now, as Sheba had found away into the crevices of her heart where she would stay, just like all of those who had left her in the past did. Rosti, Isara, Midas; they gave her something to live for, and though they were gone she still held hope that one day she would see them all again; dead or alive. She was aware of the potential pain she was putting herself through by placing a bond on the unicorn, and she knew that Sheba could easily reject her and move on once the storm had passed. Despite all of the possible repercussions of her decision, it never wavered, and with a soft huff she pressed her cheek gently into the curve of the smaller neck, feeling her heartbeat through the ragged warmth. Yes, there was a soul inside that frail chest of hers, she had a heart, and most likely a hurt and lonely mind that followed it. December wanted to help that, to make her see that you did not need to be beautiful to be loved, that you could be who you were and still be admired. Because as time continued slowly and the blizzard howled around them, that's how December had begun to feel about the white damsel. She was okay with it.
Talking.
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