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08-23-2016, 09:26 AM
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The Love is tired, too, or so thinks Maude to herself, the same soft sound that fills her whole inside seeming to match resonance with the way Arah speaks. Unsure as to the precise sequence of events that had led to the filly’s first breaths, the world new and bright around her, the ginger and cream darling can only be glad that they are tired together. The copper male makes up for their doziness with his enthusiasm; Tilney, Love’d called him, though the little one snuggled against her mother does not really understand names yet. To her, he’s mostly just a warm ball of energy that arrived to protect her; from what, she does not know. Is it that one? She thinks as the trees sound the arrival of another, their low branches rustling and the shrubbery parting. The revelation, a pale, sinister looking mare with far less beautiful horns than her parents, has soft words, but Maude looks at her with citrine eyes shining and wide. Within her breast, her tiny heart flutters, looking up at the stranger’s peculiar eyes, meeting them despite her worry that it might not be safe. When the next arrives, the filly tears her eyes away from the haunting image of Glasgow to look upon a being pretty enough to the child to be sunlit ice, or clouds. All wings at first to the babe, the woman who arrives next is also noted to hold sweet smelling, colorful things in her mouth. Things that, even to a little one such as Maude, perhaps especially so, draw her attention more than the beautiful creature carrying them does. Her father’s warm light reaches out and envelops those to arrive. Come, he says. Come closer. We are family. Though she doesn’t know what the words mean, one of them in particular rings out to her as being special. Family. What a pretty sound, all wreathed in light. It chases the thought of sleep from the cherub’s thoughts alongside a new idea, her mind turning next to a truth that strikes her like lightning, or really wild wind. They’re all up! On those, thingies… The filly smiles with curious delight, her pretty face tilting back and up to glance at her dam before she wiggles her rump up from where she’d tucked it. Her smile becomes a yawn (the white flag of her sleepiness surrendering) that seems to stretch through her body down to the tips of her hooves, the closure of the sound sending her tumbling to the ground again. Some measure of surprise and anger steals over the girl’s face: she should be able to stand like they do, too! She also has legs. She falls down again, laying on the ground with her brows furrowed, her tiny lungs heaving, both with exertion, and outrage at falling down again. How did they do it? She looks up and down the limbs of the female strangers as if they’ve got clues notched to them, as if a newborn can read at all. So it goes thrice more, until she is shaking out of weariness as well as anger. Her stomach seems to mimic the trembling in the most horrible of ways as she, at long last, heaves herself upright, and, with a few wobble ridden steps, manages to remain that way. Her face shoots back to her parents, victorious surprise stealing across her face. She almost falls for that gesture, having to take a few sidelong steps with awkward gracelessness to counter balance herself, but she doesn’t fall. When she at last dares to take her first steps, her stomach rolling with a deep peal of grumbles, it’s not towards food she toddles… But the flowers. “Awlf?” she asks them, believing with all her heart that this is what Tilney had called them when the sky woman had set them down. Her downy tail sways happily as she breathes in their perfume, small lips playfully toying with their soft, supple petals, though she stumbles ever so slightly as she lowers her head to examine them more closely. |
@Arah @Ultima @Glasgow
