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We could have gone to find him! She prattles on. An ear angles to catch her words, my eyes still out in the trees, the drifting sheets of the blizzard; if she saw my eyes, she’d see more emotional bullshit writhe through them. I can’t take her to meet my father. That’s like… something boyfriends do with their girlfriends. Annoying snowflake Erthë is definitely not my girlfriend.
Besides, we aren’t even really friends, and father had been at the secret meeting all those whiles ago that mother had dragged me to. Somehow, I didn’t see him really being all that excited to meet some hobbling, winged herd mate of his who managed to aggravate his son every chance she got (and I don’t really want him to know I’m even spending time with her). The opportunities to disappoint your dad into a heart attack come up every once and a while, and a good son does his best to not cause tachycardia whenever possible.
A good boy also does not snort in harsh humor at such a stupid idea as going to meet my dad with someone like her.
Though, I do admit to myself that it would be pretty neat to get to explore the World’s Edge. Having never been any further than the gateway and some meters in (stupid guardian mares throwing sharp things), the unknown is enticing. Also enticing is the notion that I could be mean to the little hybrid girl again – but the proximity of our bodies and the howl of the wind outside make me change my mind.
Thankfully, she trails off, sparing me having to tell her that I’d never go to see my father with her for a multitude of reasons, reasons which were complicated, and that would probably rouse her temper. I didn’t want to have to do something like body slam her in the middle of my favorite wild place; the silence that carries her shoulder into a nearby column, and her eyes out into the storm is a welcome one. I would let it stretch, as I tend to do with just about anyone, falling back into thoughts, memories, and the vision of the blizzard blurring the world beyond the marble and metal structure.
Everyone talks too much, I think when she ruins the quiet pool of self I had been eagerly lowering my consciousness into, a thought that surely will come more and more often the older I get.
"Who knows?" I answer, pondering just walking out into it. I can walk just fine, and have no wings to worry about hurting with the gales. Stepping forward a pace or two so that my head cranes out of the rotunda, I peer out into the white, lifting my eyes up to the gray and ivory swirl of heaven above. The Sun is faint, a sickly stain of yellow in the bending body of gray. When I come back into the muted shade of the snow blanketed glass awning above, my face and forelock are dusted with a sparkling multitude of flakes, which I cast away with a bodily shake (a clamorous clatter sounding as my hooves strike and slide against the stone floor). "Looks like it’ll be a while, but it’s hard to tell with snow."
For the first time since I’d stomped off the beach and off this way, I let a real smile through, perhaps invigorated in some way by the snow’s kiss.
"What, are you bored or something?"
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