11-06-2019, 09:56 AM
It's true that she has been slow to return to the Taigan woods, high on adventure and unwilling to let go the last wisps of it. It had seemed like no more than a few days, and yet it had also seemed like weeks, traveling through someone else's dream of Atlantis until she landed on that white beach. When Popinjay finally returned to the tall trees of her homeland, she had stayed on the move, finding her family late at night and leaving them early.
It's possible, then, that Lethy has not even seen the still-red scars tracing up her daughter's left flank from where the splashing magma had rained back down from above. Every day the pain grew less and if she feels anything at all now, there is no hitch in her step when she comes to the buckskin mare's side, night-caped and eyes shining. Her grin is breathless, she is always ready for a race.
When she presses close to her mother, she touches her muzzle to her cheek and there is a spark of electricity that arcs between them. The air is dry and she is so full of frenetic energy, these little shocks have happened so frequently since her return. It makes her sneeze, her head rolling, her neck twisting dramatically so that the black tendrils of her mane fly wildly in the air. It leads to a squeal, then a buck, and without a word the seal bay is galloping away, weaving deftly between the trees as though they as insubstantial as the snowy fog.
It's possible, then, that Lethy has not even seen the still-red scars tracing up her daughter's left flank from where the splashing magma had rained back down from above. Every day the pain grew less and if she feels anything at all now, there is no hitch in her step when she comes to the buckskin mare's side, night-caped and eyes shining. Her grin is breathless, she is always ready for a race.
When she presses close to her mother, she touches her muzzle to her cheek and there is a spark of electricity that arcs between them. The air is dry and she is so full of frenetic energy, these little shocks have happened so frequently since her return. It makes her sneeze, her head rolling, her neck twisting dramatically so that the black tendrils of her mane fly wildly in the air. It leads to a squeal, then a buck, and without a word the seal bay is galloping away, weaving deftly between the trees as though they as insubstantial as the snowy fog.
Popinjay
She was not quite what you would call refined
@[Izora Lethia]
