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The death-like silence of winter was rather quickly becoming a welcome friend. It didn't matter any longer that winter was (and is) synonymous with cold, and vice versa. As she grew, Naerys changed. Not just in size or looks but in temperament. She had grown quiet and contemplative. Taking pleasure in the silence of a gentle winter storm. Winter means the cessation of nature's songs; no birds, no insects. Just the steady, consistent sound of her heart thrumming in her chest and her breath whooshing from her nostrils. And her flowers. Of course, how could she forget those persistent blooms. They grew, ignorant of the season, pushing through the snow and bursting to life with their bright purple and white blooms. They exist, dependent upon the contact of her hooves, and with her movement, they wither and die.

Life is so very fragile.

Teal eyes (the perfect blend of her mother's green and her father's blue) focus on the large passionflower blooms as she lifts a hoof. For a moment she is still, watching as the flowers near that hoof begin to rapidly wither away - the blooms shrivel and close, the petals begin to fall. And then she is gone; leaving the rest to suffer the same fate. Soon they would be covered by the snow once again. Soon every trace of them would be gone. Naerys moved quietly through the snow, her pace slow and deliberate. There is no clear destination in her mind, she simply moves.

She wanders until a tall figure, shrouded by shadow and snowfall, appears before her path. Her skin prickled with the surprise and her legs froze, though she managed to prevent a gasp from erupting from her lips. Recovering quickly, she moved closer - this time with purpose. It doesn't take her long to recognize him. In fact, his face was one that was difficult to forget (and that isn't even a sexual innuendo). His face and eyes aren't readable - perhaps because she is but six months old and has a lot left to learn or perhaps it is because he is so cold. Perhaps he is made of ice, somehow. Briefly, her imagination wonders if he would be cold to the touch - the way the ice or snow feel against the most sensitive areas of skin. Instead, she stands a few feet away, feathered wings hugging her sides for extra warmth. "Hello." she states simply. Nothing more seemed necessary. She knows who he is, if only by title, and she isn't important. Just a pegasus filly with passionflowers growing up around her hooves in the depths of winter.


[Well, she's being awkward. xD Sorry about that. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :D]