The forest is quiet. Only the mother’s footsteps and the child’s swishing tail are heard over a symphony of breathing and gently falling raindrops. Pinewood and moss, the fresh smells stirred by a passing rainstorm. It is a favorite smell of Padme’s already; perhaps the Forest could even be considered a favorite place of hers. She loves to move through the thick fog, watching it dance and swirl ghoulishly away from her and litter her fur with prismatic sparkles when it settles. The birds begin to come out, to chirp and sing their melodies as they beckon the sun back out even if it only for a few humid hours. Shafts of light illuminate the spaces between the trees, the mists flowing patiently between the trunks as it rises to evaporate.
Her ears prick to his footsteps, his smell carrying up into her nose and she grins. His voice is next, calm and gentlemanly. She remembers the feeling of his voice in her ear, the sound of his chuckle and the smell of his flesh. She stands silent, alerting the child to do the very same (which she does). She lets the quiet sink in,a cloud of mist moving between them to allow the space between the three to clear. She stares at him and with a soft tone, the ghost woman speaks. “Hello Rouhi.” she whuffs, taking a confident step forward, her kid keeping to her hip. “I thought maybe you’d like to see what you made.” She steps aside to allow him to see her, and in that second or so, Padme realizes who she is looking at. Rouhi was her father, her mother has told her as much.
The filly is shy, but for whatever reason she was embarrassed to show it and so she pushed herself to step forward. “Hello.” she blinks, looking up at him in wonderment and a little sprinkle of fear.
CITY & PADME
the high black water, the devil's daughter
the high black water, the devil's daughter
