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11-18-2016, 09:25 AM
“I’m always cold,” says Erthë, and, at first, Maude looks over at her with wide eyes of worry, wracking her small brain for any sort of illness that might make one cold all the time. However, the snowy scholar is smiling, and it doesn’t seem the listless, sorrowful smile of one who suffers inside, and attempts to be strong on the outside (like her daddy, as of late, whenever they tucked into the den beneath the roots of their tree; her mother’s worn divot in the earth, still obviously vacant, and his usual jovial face lacking its luster as he turned to her to kiss his babe goodnight). The touch of her lips upon Maude’s tiny poll is also a surprise. “Whoa!” she dramatically chatters, a shiver racing from the chilly patch between her ears to the very tip of her silk bound, growing tail, “that’s neat magic! I bet it does make Tallsun pretty awful, though.” In actuality, she loves the summer heat; it was under those piercing rays that she was born, the most dire and withering Tallsun in years being the first she would know. Of course, she has no clue just how hot this year was, at all, and simply assumes it’s always like an oven in Helovia during those months. She had come to love the heat in all the ways Erthë seemed to not like it, and, unlike the training Seer, she had not come to resent the cold, either, though she certainly missed the green plants and the red foliage of the seasons passed. Still, the revelation that Erthë essentially was snow makes it that much easier to settle in beneath the shady awning of her wing, the filly wriggling some of the accumulated snow from her back and haunches; between the ethereal hush between their words, the squishy sound of chewing and the crunch of their furrowing for more cherries creates a rather peaceful ambiance. It makes it easier for Maude to think about what she’s told next, while, other days, she might have swiftly cavorted into the next topic, seeking to avoid being a grown up, exactly as she was asked. However, even the creamy ginger darling knows that, sometimes, kids have to think, too. “You’re probably right,” she says, smiling, having abandoned her carefree munching while she’d pondered. Sure, she enjoyed working at the greenhouse, but there were other times she resented it. Maybe Erthë was right, and too much time there now would mean she’d be loath to spend some there later. Besides, if they truly needed her help, wouldn’t someone come and ask her for it? “Besides, I’d not have got to meet you, or try your tasty cherries, if I’d gone to help!” Returning to her eating, her belly starting to feel the slightest bit dodgy from all the natural sugars, Maude ignores the sensation out of a gluttonous need for more (perhaps precisely why she’d never been told of the cherries in the first place). Pausing occasionally to playfully roll a seed about in her mouth, as she does while Erthë talks about being a student of history and lore, Maude almost swallows it out of sheer delight when the snowy hybrid asks her for a story. The pit pierces the snow where she spits it vengefully, an ever so slightly offended expression stealing over her enthusiasm as she gives the seed a last glare for so attempting to plant itself in her belly. Just how would she look with a glow cherry tree growing out her back? Plain ludicrous, that’s how. “Well, I’ve made up lots of stories,” she begins, a slight blush burning beneath her pale coat as she shares her most personal (and favorite) of hobbies, aware she doesn’t sing as well as some, “most of them are songs. You wanna hear one? Most of them are about fancy balls and other royal affairs, but I think they’re good!” & you just can’t fall asleep, I’ll sing a song beside you. and if you ever forget how much you really mean to me, every day, I will remind you. |
Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone.
