12-27-2018, 10:51 AM
Eurwen
in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows
Ever growing, the golden-haired twins were no longer that dependent on their Mama for food - honestly, Eurwen could and would still wish for those days, because last summer had been the easiest part of her 6-month-old life. She had no quarrels in diplomacy, despite peeking in on one such a meeting because she had wanted to see what her grandmother was like. She had no issues with the Icy island up north-east, no ‘other claimangs’ that Papa thought they needed protection from, no idea that it could potentially stir war between horses, this plague. Naive as she was she believed in the idea that surely everybody was trying their best to heal the world of this plague. Like she had, too, hoped to do her small bit.
The white, pink-spotted filly had not seen her sister today but obviously, Sheen and ‘Seis were exploring something cool and scary together. Wen had no such urges, content to help her mother when she came home from walking the perimeter that was Nerine. Whereas her father was also able to do that, he also was on Icicle Isle so very often. Guarding it, he calls it.
So today, like other days, the goldenhaired appaloosa filly was entirely alone. Not that she minded. She had fun with counting the flowers, with adoring the insects living from them, with absorbing the deafening sound of the waves crashing on rock. Never would she inspect them up closer, she would just peer at the little sprays and see little rainbows in the droplets.
But today a stranger’s scent assaults her nostrils, and when she follows it there is a dark bay mare at the border. She doesn’t seem like she’s looking for something, and the young girl, so serious in her age, frowns at that a bit. Then, she approaches, with soft, small steps, and looks up at that bewilderd smile. It reminds her of her sisters, and so it is something that reminds her of her family and home.
”H-hello.” Curse her trembling breath, but she’s excited and a bit scared at the same time. So very much her mother’s daughter, but she doesn’t know that latter because Eurwen never saw what Breckin was like before she joined Nerine, before she talked to Scorch and Brennen and Wishbone... and her father. He might have told her that she was like her mother, but the spotted girl perhaps had never taken it so figuratively as he had meant it.
Never mind that. There is someone... important to talk to. She has that air, anyway.
The white, pink-spotted filly had not seen her sister today but obviously, Sheen and ‘Seis were exploring something cool and scary together. Wen had no such urges, content to help her mother when she came home from walking the perimeter that was Nerine. Whereas her father was also able to do that, he also was on Icicle Isle so very often. Guarding it, he calls it.
So today, like other days, the goldenhaired appaloosa filly was entirely alone. Not that she minded. She had fun with counting the flowers, with adoring the insects living from them, with absorbing the deafening sound of the waves crashing on rock. Never would she inspect them up closer, she would just peer at the little sprays and see little rainbows in the droplets.
But today a stranger’s scent assaults her nostrils, and when she follows it there is a dark bay mare at the border. She doesn’t seem like she’s looking for something, and the young girl, so serious in her age, frowns at that a bit. Then, she approaches, with soft, small steps, and looks up at that bewilderd smile. It reminds her of her sisters, and so it is something that reminds her of her family and home.
”H-hello.” Curse her trembling breath, but she’s excited and a bit scared at the same time. So very much her mother’s daughter, but she doesn’t know that latter because Eurwen never saw what Breckin was like before she joined Nerine, before she talked to Scorch and Brennen and Wishbone... and her father. He might have told her that she was like her mother, but the spotted girl perhaps had never taken it so figuratively as he had meant it.
Never mind that. There is someone... important to talk to. She has that air, anyway.
lies the seed that with the sun's love
in the spring becomes the rose
in the spring becomes the rose
@[Wishbone]