Myrrine

She had heard the call, and without another thought she was trotting in the direction her Sultana had called. With her ears pricked and hazel eyes filled with curiosity, she managed to make her way to the Blood Tree without getting lost this time. She hadn't been here for long, and thus had only explored so much of the land and the inhabitants. So far, she only knew personally Volterra and his mate(?) Airlia, and their little babe. She had briefly come across their leader, but anyone else was relatively a stranger. So when she finally closed the distance, she couldn't help but see only three familiar figures, and one not. He was blue and white, wings hanging to his sides delicately and his mane cut short. He looked foreign almost, but then again who wasn't foreign in these parts? The Throat was filled with many cultures and languages, and Myrrine's curiously scholar mind was trying to keep up, though it was relatively hard to do.

Without thinking, she brought herself next to Volterra, the first person who had welcomed her with kindness and somewhat befriended her. Black maw found black skin along his shoulder, remembering how he often preferred touch over words, looking kindly into his red eyes and smiling,"Greetings Volterra, I can't quite see you as the party type, though these gatherings are always pleasant." At the sound of the little foal's words she instantly perked up, bringing her head down to her and sweetly offering her muzzle once again, hoping she would accept,"Hello Miss Vezer! You must have grown at least a foot since I've last seen you, are you growing up behind my back without my noticing?" There was a playful, tender twinkle in her eyes, before she bubbled out a tender laugh and looking to back up to Volterra cheerfully. It was nice to know this little foal had a good relationship with her father, it was important for them to have one, and every day she wished Laume had had the chance to at least get to know Quilyan a little more before his passing.

A look of sadness flickered over her eyes briefly, of longing, before she looked around at the beautiful decorations. As she did so, she couldn't help but wonder where the little filly's dam was? Was she simply busy with certain errands? She didn't see the two together often if she was honest with herself. The thought made Myrrine grow slightly worried, but she decided she wouldn't press further into that thought. She had no place to worry about a child when she had failed to raise her own. She was not a mother, and never would be one, as much as she liked to think she could have been. She didn't deserve the privilege that she had thrown away in the trash the day she decided to run away from her responsibilities and leave the child in the hands of the Edge. She could only pray that the others wouldn't find out, for if they did would they hate her too? She had become used to hate over love these days. Shaking her head mentally away from this negative thoughts, she flashed the pair a beautiful smile, before hearing the words of the winged brute.

Offering them both a final nudge of farewell, she moved her spotted form slightly closer to him, careful not to startle him with her approach, before softly responding to him,"I don't know about the Dragon's Throat, but I do know that the World's Edge used to decorate too before I left. Helovia likes to enjoy these kind of festivities." Hazel eyes studied him quietly, curiously, although there was a touch of hesitation as she finally stepped closer so that they were standing next to each other, her own nose pressing into an ornament to study it. Smiling to herself she giggled quietly, before looking to him shyly and dipping her head,"Forgive me for interrupting you Sir. My name is Myrrine, I'm rather new here, so I haven't met everyone yet. But it's a pleasure to meet you! I hope we'll be seeing more of each other often! I mean- if that's what- oh goodness I shouldn't have assumed you would want to meet again." Now she was blushing, clearly flustered and looking away in embarrassment. Ever since she had joined the herd, her confidence had nearly vanished, her desire to be accepted so strong that she feared any wrong move she had would cause her the inevitable of rejection. Her hoof shuffled in the sands, eyes looking anywhere but his own, as she waited for his response. For his negative words to her because she had assumed something of him.

She swallowed hard, hoping that he would at least go easy on her. Perhaps she should just go back and stand next to Volterra? At least she knew he tolerated her. But she had also helped deliver his child, so perhaps he felt obligated to be kind to her. The longer she thought to herself the worst her thoughts became, and soon she was beginning to breathe a little faster than she was before. Her mind was reeling, and although she was hiding it rather well, inside she was panicking, wanting to scream and run away and just hide. Hiding worked, because then no one could find her and figure out just how truly awful of a being she really was.

"Talk."

the butterfly is proof that great darkness
can create great beauty