Memorie flips her blue tail (which has become slightly illuminated beneath Leonidas' glow) over her hindquarters and Lilliana laughs. The girl seems to become emboldened by the attention of the star and it reminds her briefly of Nash, who had been cheeky even at Memorie's tender age. The older chestnut stands in the quiet - content to listen to wave song and watch her granddaughter interact with Leonidas for the moment. "And what a pretty color it is," Lilliana says, smiling at the little girl's antics.
"I think it is," she offers to Borderline when the pale mare looks out the ocean. Turning out to look at the twilight sea, her expression turns wistful. "I'm rather partial to it," Lilliana explains with a rueful smile that remains mostly hidden in the dark. "It's been a favorite spot of mine for years," she says, thinking about how many tides had turned on this beach over the years with the slender mare for company. A soft breeze tugs at her curling mane, warm and inviting as it rolls away from the breaking surf.
(Once upon a time, Lilliana used to come here to send her thoughts across the waves; 'I live by the ocean, Lilli.' Her cousin had said. 'If you are looking at the sea and so am I, then the currents might bring us together again one day.')
Leonidas occupies himself with Memorie and Lilliana looks to her fellow Taigan, though she takes a step forward in hopes that her companion might keep pace with her. Borderline smiles and she returns the gesture before looking back to her bonded and granddaughter. What the blue-maned mare speaks of is a statement that she knows well. "No," she murmurs in agreement with the young woman. "There is no love quite like it.".
They linger in silence for a few moments before Lilliana decides to share something with @[Borderline]. It's a sentiment she thinks the new-mother could identify with. "When the boys were born, I was terrified." Leonidas flashes a different color - almost violet in hue - to young Memorie and Lilliana shakes her head at the star. Show off, she thinks before coming back to the conversation. "I was so afraid I would break them somehow or do something wrong," she explains of those early days when it had been just her and Nash and Yan. "It was just the three of us and the family I came from was so large," something in her voice drifts away before she steadies it, before she offers a small smile, "I didn't think I could do it on my own."
That was before, though.
Before Pangea.
Before Wolfbane.
But she hadn't been alone, she reminds herself. That sense of family had prevailed in the end; even though she had been stolen away, Brazen and Elena had remained with her sons.
The quiet settles again (as much can be found next to an ocean, anyway) between them and Lilliana waits. As a youth - not much older than her granddaughter now - she had accompanied her mother, Aletta, on the rounds of their war-torn home to speak with the residents who remained behind. Most had been families like her own, missing some crucial part of it by a war that called nearly half their population away to the siege in Windskeep. Everybody seemed to be missing a parent, a sibling, or a cousin. Reflecting back to those days, she hopes that offering some insight about her past might invite Borderline to do the same.
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
Like gospel hymns that you caught in the air?
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind