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I still think she looks tired. Even as she considers my offer, I seem to see lines grow under her bright, blue eyes, which grey more with each passing breath. The illusory aged mare she had spoken of stands before me for a brief moment, until I blink my eyes at the sound of her lovely voice. Once again, only a young, vibrant beauty of lavender remains. I shake my crown, as if to dislodge the cobwebs which had tried to usurp such a sight. Short, spuky hairs growing into awkwardly long tendrils splatter against my neck and face.
"If you say so, lady," my voice noncommittal, still glancing at her a bit nervously. I have never been good with girls, but something about this brilliant lady reminds me of mother. Maybe it is the appearance of hardness she is attempting to erect. Like my mother's double face, hiding the softness the Constrictor would show me while we rest alone.
Careful. My head shoots up, as if I had been up to no good, when in reality the cat is who she chides sideways through her words. I turn bicolored eyes back in his direction, picking up on a flutter of eyelashes before looking back at her. "Where did you find him?" I ask, curious. Mother had never told me where she had gotten Bear, but Ophelia was more than grateful to my mother for capturing the silver egg of the dragon who had hatched into the chattering Tinek. I had been there with them when the exchange occurred, a moment of sisterly love that made me earn for companionship of siblings. It was funny; now that I had family, I spent more time away from my siblings. We only miss what we do not have, it seems.
Her words would be poison to my ears, if I thought them true. Instead, I look up at her with a sorrowful expression, my lips slightly pouted and my brows drawn tight. I could not understand where her negativity came from. First she was old, now she claimed friendship was a waste of time. What was it that this lady has met in her lifetime?
Of course, I cannot stay saddened for long, for the jab of words she thought to overpower my argument brings but a smile to my face. I look at her with all of my youth and life, still kind and warm. A patch of summer amidst her wintry gaze. "Well, he is a God," I say, my voice very matter-of-fact and calm. "It would be foolish to assume he would come to the beck and call of a yearling." No matter how torn I had been about my family, my heart felt lighter in the presence of one who appeared to hold more shadows around hers. That was an evil thought, that the pain of others could lift spirits; it was not malevolent in my mind, nor did I pity the pale colored beauty. Instead, I was just reminded that while my family may be different than they appear, I still knew of love and friends and warmth.
If I knew of these things, just how terrible could the Grey be? How cold could my mother really be?
"If I was truly in need, he would come."
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