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04-12-2017, 09:05 AM
 Maude does not notice her father’s somberness, her spring eyes wide with wonder, pale tresses swaying happily behind her in slow, easy arcs as she looks around. She occasionally bursts forth two or three paces in a canter, giggling at the sensation of the water splashing against her belly, and the sight of the pure, crystalline water rising into miniature peaks over the glimmer of the rubies below. Otherwise, her eyes are above, on the crimson canopy, and how the wind gently sways the branches, revealing sparkling glimmers of golden sunlight, that pierce white and silver ripples all through the pool, or they rove to the falls, themselves. Might, is what she sees, and natural grace; how all things came to where they were meant to be, as they were meant to be, however, will come to her much later in life, when the lessons her father fears so much for her tender heart to trespass upon have left their necessary scars. Like a tree, she could only be a tender, green sprout for so long. At some point, the supple sapling must grow bark and become wood, or it would collapse under the weight of itself, in time. So to, must Maude – but not today, or tomorrow. But… In its own time, as all things come. Her laughter trills at the sight of Peatree chasing the fish, her gaze following his playfully drifting body all the way back to her father, that precious innocence flooding her entire being as she bouncily makes her way towards them, to nuzzle her muzzle into the familiar strands of his cream mane. "You’re not old, daddy," she promises him, stepping back to smile up at his handsome, cherished face with all the love she can muster, "you’re just… uh, father age! That’s all. It would be weird if you were a kid too, I think." With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me. |
Image Credits | Table
@Tilney
Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone.
