Zyanya

Concern turns to fear, an expression familiar to Zyanya's face. The happy skipping of her heart intensifies into something darker. Perhaps, had she paid more heed to her friend, then the current events would not be unfolding.

The gold scoffs, his coat shaking loose the silver sands in irritation, and the mischevious smile falls from her lips like a heavy weight, shattering on the sand at her hooves. Unconsciously, as the ears pin back against his crown, she takes a step back, suddenly wanting to dart down the beach and away from the Laurelin. Her eyes widen with surprise, for the expectations that she built in her head for this stallion were not the reality - something a child should even understand. Not all is what it seems. His eyes burn with fury, and as her hooves begin a quiet, slow retreat, one at a time, she braces her ears for the lashing that would certainly arise.

For, she knew, acting out of turn, upsetting your company, it all was worth a sound verbal beating back home. What would it be worth here in Helovia?
The face of her father begins to appear on that of Thranduil's, his features twisted into some ugly version of anger. The illusions begin to fade, and the air fills with a static tension.

The bark at her side causes her to jump in her skin, eyes darting down to look at Haldir's determined expression, as though he and Thranduil were in the midst of a heated argument. Uncertainly, the girls ears flicker atop her skull, wanting to flee, yet unable to move. "I..." her voice catches in her throat, feeling powerless and tired, head dizzy. Gold flaked eyes peer at her for the briefest of moments before the gold turns away, his posture disgusted. A scolded child, she glances down at her hooves for a moment, trying to gain her courage to speak.

"Thranduil," her voice, soft and timid, wavers over the crashing of the sea. "Forgive me, I did not know." Know what, exactly? That he would react badly? That he was not what he appeared to be? Somehow, even despite all the events that just occurred, Zyanya cannot bring herself to feel that he is unkind. While Haldir clearly worked his efforts to protect her against the rage which burned underneath Thranduil's eyes, something about the gold made her believe he would do whatever he wanted - Haldir's pleading aside.

A clueless girl, maybe just a tad too optimistic in the case of this strange stallion.

Turning her attention toward the brave expression of Haldir, she smiles meekly. His attempt to act natural is apparent, but fails quite miserably against the palpable tension still lingering between the retreating Thranduil and the playful pair. "Thank you," she cooed down at Haldir's smiling face, finding herself quite pleased with her chocolate colored friend - even if the gold were quite out of her reach. Her neck stretches downward to try to embrace the smaller stag, her voice quiet and calm. "Should you go with him?" she asks, her lavender eyes stealing a glance in the direction of the grumpy gold.

""

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ooc -- We can keep going or you can wrap this thread up here (seems like it could be a natural stopping point), if you want. :)

YOU ARE THE BLUEST LIGHT.