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YOU'RE LIKE THE BURDEN WE BEAR, YOU'RE ALL THE HATE THAT WE SHARE He watches the girl closely, his heart thudding. It is important to see a child standing early, because anything else will imply weakness and Volterra refuses to acknowledge any of that in his bloodline. He remembers his own birth, the pressure he'd felt as his sire's watchful eye rested upon him and Nymeria. If he hadn't stood early....perhaps his father would not have even permitted him to live. Of course, Volterra wouldn't do anything so drastic to his own daughter, but it will concern him if she can't stand. His worries seem unfounded as the girl lifts to her feet. She squeals, wobbles, falls; the sand is soft enough to cushion her, but the stallion is sure she'll still feel the effects. That's good - life isn't straightforward, and the filly needs to learn early on that conquering adversity is better than never facing it at all. Finally, she stands again and wobbles towards her mother to drink. The beast dips his massive head in approval, rumbling something that sounds like a purr in his throat. Good - she'll do. She turns to face him, then, and he reaches out his muzzle to try and huff air softly into her velvet nostrils. She's so small, fragile compared to his great bulk, but hardy and strong enough to let him know that she'll grow well. "Victorina," he growls. It isn't Hungarian, but it speaks of victory, and that is what this filly will bring. |
@Vitani
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
