Glory [ Mandatory Herd Meeting!]

the Rift

Glory [ Mandatory Herd Meeting!]

Willow Posts: N/A

Unregistered

:: :: ::

#30

08-30-2012, 12:13 AM

WILLOW & ERMINE

.arborun lignea .. .mare. ..23 years. .. .16.3 hands.

There is much that occurs in little time. Willow can barely react to it all, but in summary, she begins with excited hope, and withdraws in frightened despair.

They stand and stare at her, but most importantly, they stand. They do not raise up in hooves and teeth. They do not send their familiars to burn and bite and chase her. They even, rank her.

A frail smile, weak only in its disbelief, wraps across her muzzle. "I would be honored," she intones to Paladin at his offer of Storyteller. She dips her head in gratitude to him, as she is learned is customary for horses since her early days of study. Another mare with an interesting mark on her head speaks up, voicing similar interests. Willow smiles and nods her direction, thinking that they might spend a lot of time together. She had hoped to ask Paladin more, perhaps not now amidst this crowd, about the specific duties such a title would entail, but it seemed even after would have to wait with the way the meeting began to turn.

Before all of that though, Poppy comes. Still cautious of the powerful little mare, Willow is however grateful to see the familiar face. She cranes her neck, mane wrapped with leaves from her tree sliding down as she does. Her soft muzzle bumps at the small mare, warm breath exchanged in silent welcome. Ermine on her backside chatters his own greeting, the pitch high with excitement. He still enjoys the girl, entranced by her coat.

The attitude shifts then. Voices steadily raise and the air grows hot with all the tempers. Willow has seen this. Willow knows this.
This feels like the brink of war. She withdraws slightly, her tree shivering as she moves, wary.

A braver one at her side however, steps forth. The small, little Poppy - an odd name for one with no Poppies on her, Willow muses - calls attention to her. Bold words. Most troubling though is the way the ground and the plants around Poppy shift, living, then dying. It brings another involuntary shudder of fear through the lignea. She in many ways adores Poppy, but in many others, wills her to keep a smart distance. She cannot yet be sure to what degree the mare could effect a species like her. She'd rather not find out very quickly.

Yet for the moment, the echoing words of Poppy make Willow hope again, and her smile spreads. Encouraged she steps back beside the gray, whispering softly to her. "You speak honest and true, Poppy."

The girl is soon called away however, orders barked by the mare who is coldest of all in this group. Willow's gaze lifts, green eyes in a brown face shrouded by green marks. She is curious by what the grulla could mean. Poppy, heal? Is the strange girl a true healer, or an herbologist like herself? All questions are quickly answered soon enough, as magic indeed takes root and the plants she uses begin to glow.

Willow gasps. Her eyes widen and though she doesn't realize it she is sweeping forward with a gentle stride. Her nose tilts, eyes striving to catch a better glimpse of this talent. Just as easily as its begun it ends and Willow reaches out her broad, long head to hold Poppy firm on her right side. Gentle words seek to soothe, fascinated ever more with this girl.

"Shhh, there there little one. You did good, rest now. You did good." Ermine scutters down Willow's shoulder and curls up in a neat, warm ball on Poppy's backside, claws tangled in her mane. He chutters to himself like a soft purr as he gives what comfort he can to the coat-changing horse.