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10-06-2014, 12:33 AM
Arya Arya followed at her mother’s side, eyes wide as she gazed about the festivities. A grin was painted across her bay face as her eyes flickered all about. Despite the crowd she was careful to remain by her mother’s side. The babe of course was eager to explore but even more eager to celebrate beside her mother. For a log moment her eyes rest upon the bay mare that sang into the night air, both ears pricked forward. She then glanced at her mother and the grin upon her face grew even wider as the question broke through the air. The child watched her mother’s steps and mimicked them in her own awkward fashion. Every now and then she tripped over her own feet and when such a thing occurred she giggled. Arya knew full well she wasn’t the graceful beauty like her mother. She couldn’t move with a elegance and pride. Where her mother was the graceful damsel from the story, Arya was the wild shieldmaiden. Of course the babe didn’t view her mother as some useless flower, no, the child believed her to be so much more than that. That would always be the reason that drew her to her mother over her father. One day she swore in the moment of their dance that she would be the same beauty as her mother, but, with strength that surpassed her father. Throughout the dance her gaze was focused mostly upon her mother, but she went to look at the others around them. Her eyes then turned to another watching them. A mare that moved in her own dance and all Arya felt in that moment was writhing jealousy and possessiveness. Many may assume it would be one other than her father gazed upon her mother, but she knew better. Romance had little to do with her birth and the concept of a love child was beyond her. Nonetheless, she wouldn’t let some straner get in between her and her mother. “Mama, I don’t like how she’s staring,” Arya said returning her gaze back toward her mother. The jealousy was written all across her face. "Typi non habent claritatem insitam; est usus legentis in iis If I look back, I am lost |
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