December didn't think of herself as a "Good Samaritan" or fixer upper, she only helped those she felt needed it, and whether Sheba liked it or not; she needed help. If anyone asked her why she had chosen to befriend and help the old unicorn, she honestly probably wouldn't be able to come up with an answer. She wasn't looking for gratitude or anything in return, in fact she still didn't understand entirely what had drawn her to the grumpy mare. She had been gruff and unwelcoming, disinterested in what she mostly had to say, and had most likely only used her to keep herself warm in the storm they had faced together. Despite all of this, December still found her to be interesting. She felt drawn to her because she had been alone, had pushed herself away from the world just because she seemed to not appreciate who she was now. This was enough for December to come back, to look for her and show her that she was worth something after all.
The way she was alone, left to her own devices and pushing everyone away, had that not been December two years ago? She had met many in Helovia, and nearly all of them she had pushed away with her aloof and disinterest in conversation. She had shoved them aside because talking and making friends was meaningless, what did that accomplish for one's survival? It offered nothing. It was a means of passing time while everyone waited for the inevitable of death. December felt there were better things to do to pass the time. Until Miykael had come along. She had literally stumbled upon him one day in the cold, and through a shared moment of awkwardness they had connected, and from that day forward she began to toy with the thought of having someone else in her life.
Two years and one child later, Miykael was still the man she cherished the most. He was her light in the darkest hour, the shelter from the rain, and she didn't regret anything that happened between them. He was her rock as she was his, and even through her bouts of anger and irritation, through her irrational mood swings and overbearing nature towards their daughter, he had stayed with her, and loved her for who she was. He had been her Good Samaritan, and although the reason he was still with her was not because he felt it would fix her, he had mended her broken and tarnished soul and made her whole again. She would always be grateful for that.
Although not everyone may not feel that way, December understood where Sheba was coming from, saw the similarities between the mare and her past self so clearly that it almost hurt. It made her remember the nights where she was faced with nothing but herself to rely on, and even though she would have never admitted it then, now she knew just how painful it was. She would never wish that on someone, not even her worst enemy. So maybe December was trying to fix her a little bit, but only because she knew what would happen if no one else did. Not to mention, she couldn't help but enjoy and admire her no-nonsense bitchy attitude. She connected to that on a deeper level as well.
With a quiet snort, her ears pricked in the direction towards the hag, silver eyes glancing over her briefly before turning to acknowledge her. She would have offered her muzzle in greeting, though knowing Sheba, she most likely would have denied it, and thus only pricked her ears in her direction casually, waiting for her to finish before responding in her dull tones,"There isn't much to worry about around here. Though knowing you should Death come knocking I would imagine you would spit in his face and kick him in his loins. Or am I incorrect in my assumption?" Her brown naturally quirked, a ghost of a smirk on ashen lips as she took a step towards her, eyeing her up and down before speaking clearly,"I take it you've found something to eat around here. Birdsong will come soon so you can escape this hell. Why you would choose the place where lovers come to fornicate is beyond me, but everyone has their own reasons." Would she be able to recognize the dry sarcasm dripping from her words? Or would she brush over them as everyone else did when she tried to speak in jest. Very few could ever tell the difference.
"He should be here soon. He often takes his time with things," as she spoke she turned to look behind her, eyes searching for the familiar splashes of white and yellow that marked her beloved. Short tail swished lazily at her hips, and before she could stop herself she huffed, shaking her head to loosen her neck before lowering it into the snow to embrace the cold. She savored the way it tickled her nostrils as she dug in search of foliage, how it sent minor shivers down her spine and left her feeling invigorated as the cold always did. Maybe she still loved the snow a little too much. Only time would tell. So with an air of impatience, she turned back to her companion, waiting patiently for her to say something as she always did. If she chose not to though, they would sit in silence, most likely to wait until her tardy man would finally make his appearance.
Talking.
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