She lays Down || any

[Philomena]

Petal-shaped ears twitch softly in the warm sun, the ryegrass tickling the ends of the girl's dark muzzle. The mare that had birthed her stayed only long enough to ensure the girl's safety at the den. The silver-maned girl would only ever have a fleeting glimpse of her mother before she would be left alone. 

She has been left with nothing but the quiet whisper of a name. One that floats around her head on pale butterfly wings. 

Philomena

It is a name that means loved. Something her mother hoped another could make her feel. 

Despite the weakness, all foals are plagued with at birth, she is beautiful. Light blue eyes peak curiously out of dark lashes. Her tail is a fluff of silver that swats gently at the summer flies resting upon her blanketed rump. Mena twists slightly in the grass, not yet finding the strength to stand. 

The girl cries out, presumably for her mother. Though the painted mare would not be returning for her child. Unbeknownst to her, the fairies watched the girl. 

They watched her as they watched over many other abandoned children. Children who didn't know what would happen to them. 

She cries out once more.

((OOC: This is SHORT because its just an introduction to her.<3))

[Scorch]

For all she ever was - warrior, princess, impulsive, queen, fiery - Scorch was, ultimately, a mother. To Kaida, Noori, Shahrizai, Simeon, Sarkis, Ea, Leiland, Wrynn, Vi, Volcan, and Rain. Though many still roamed Beqanna, they remained excessively elusive, and her lover's heart ached for the loss of her children. Even to see them now, as adults, Scorch felt would not remedy her severe feelings of loneliness and isolation; she missed the dependency of a child, of the way they trusted her and made her forget about her hardships.

Unfortunately, two things stopped the mare from fulfilling her need for biological children: the first being that her husband remained in the Afterlife, and the second being that, as a result of having been dead herself, she was barren. Her insides would no longer permit her to bear children - and perhaps that was for the best, considering the harem she left behind in the first place.

But that does not mean that she cannot help those still in need of a mother.

The mutilated, aged figure appeared at the entrance of the den on a warm summer day, her heart fluttering nervously. The last time she adopted a child, it had been a magician in disguise, who had severely stabbed her in the back. She hoped that it would go better this time - but even more than that, she desperately hoped that there was a child here at all, even if it included future back stabbing. And how awful of her to hope, for a child to be abandoned - but she did. With all her heart.

A gentle cry sounded not far from where the mare stood, dragon eyes surveying the area in heat vision, quickly finding the source of the noise as a hot figure nestled deep into the ryegrass. Nickering reassuringly in response, Scorch approached the newborn, still wet with afterbirth.

You bitch, she thought. To leave your child so.

"Come, child," Her voice sounded, warm but firm. With her hammer head lowered, the once queen began grooming the filly, maternal instincts taking over, even though this child was not her own. The rasp of her tongue was a reassurance, a promise: I am here for you. I am mother.

When the girl was clean, Scorch nudged her thin dun neck, beckoning her to her feet. "We will go home now, little one. You can tell me your name as we walk - it is not far."

[Philomena]

She cannot comprehend who it was grooming her. The girl only knew she felt safe. Surely this was her mother returning for her? If it hadn't been the presence seemed motherly enough. She decides (despite knowing the possibilities) that this was her mother just as much as the other mare had been. Mina raises her head to peer at the woman above her, a smile gracing her small muzzle. 

"Come, child."

The words were encouraging urging the girl to stand gently. The folded limbs stretch and splay to brace the girl. Mina wobbles before collapsing with a quiet huff. Her brow furrows in confusion, pale eyes peering up at her mother once more. She takes note of how the bald mare stands, the way her legs are positioned to hold her toned bodice. 

She tries once more allowing her body to collapse yet again. Though third times a charm and she stands on the third try delighted with her progress, as slow as it may be. She grins at her mother, small ears pointed to the mare.

When her mother spoke of leaving she did not question it. She tries her legs further, stepping forward in earnest. She takes a moment to gain balance before stepping forward again, how exciting walking was! She is asked for a name, and Mina digs deep into her mind to find one.

"Philomena!"

She shouts, though not too loudly of course. Her voice is high as any child's is, but it is laced with a gentle presence. The painted girl steps toward her mother, nudging her leg gently with her soft muzzle.

"Philomena."