"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
01-06-2016, 07:38 PM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2016, 05:00 PM by Electra.)
Some see a weed. Some see a wish.
She was alone, hungry and utterly cold. She lay on a patch of blood, the residue of her birth yet no mother was here to welcome the little girl into the world. Her mother, had the decency and care to groom her damp palomino coat cleansing it of any birth fluids of blood left and in a flash she was gone. Her body trembled as icy blue eyes searched for her mother in extreme confusion. Her small little legs tucked under her neatly, no instinct flew her forwards to stand no instinct even wandered on the idea of survival.
So there she sat, a petite little thing, lying hungrily in a patch of dandelions. She continue to move in discomfort shifting her positions back and forth as hunger began to deprive her soul. Tiny champagne lobes swivel hoping to hear something, to feel the warmth of a breathe as they inhale the scent of the sweet little newborn. Her discomfort is followed as she lyes flat on her side, itty bitty legs sprawled about, as her small milky colored tail flicks back and forth. Icy eyes search again searching through the forest of long grass and high stemmed dandelions, " Momma?" Her voice is little and cracks from her milk deprived muzzle.
She thought she saw movement but, perhaps it was the coming of death at her door-step. If someone didn't take notice of the little thing, she would be left for the buzzards.
sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart
She’s still a little overwhelmed by the whole of Beqanna. It does seem pleasant so far, but at this point everything still feels so new. Not to mention the fact that everyone is just so much bigger than she is.
But, at least she has someone she knows that is a little more similar in size. Fynnegan has been quite the gentleman so far and she thinks that, with time, she will probably come to care for the little stallion quite a bit. And his home, Echo Trails, is quite a lovely little place. Hopefully she’ll also get to meet some of Fynnegan’s mares soon.
For the moment though, she’s exploring. She knows so little about Beqanna, and she wants to know more. Her little feet have carried her quite far today, taking her through many beautiful little herdlands and territories. But, she’s beginning to tire. Sighing quietly to herself, she finds a nice little tree to lean against, just to give herself a little break.
That’s when she hears the voice.
”Momma?”
Ducky’s little ears perk up and her head spins about, looking for the source of the noise. She can’t see anything, so she steps away from her tree and begins to look about. After only a few minutes, she finally spots a little clump amongst a patch of dandelions. A filly.
The closer Ducky gets, the more she’s struck by how small the girl is. The child must be a falabella or miniature too. She stops a few steps away from the girl, so as to not appear to threatening, and lowers her head to smile at the child. “Hello there sweetheart, are you alright?”
ducky
pic c juliadavis.deviantart.com
She's not officially part of Fynn's herd yet, but I thought I'd go ahead and post because I don't want to keep you waiting too long.
01-21-2016, 07:34 PM (This post was last modified: 01-21-2016, 07:35 PM by Electra.)
Some see a weed. Some see a wish.
Cecillia's little body trembled, as a honey sweet voice came into her petite palomino lobes. Her golden eyelashes flutter as her icy blue eyes meet the gaze of much bigger build. Coat color like honey, quite like hers. Her velvet muzzle reached up towards the equine, she wanted to feel warmth and most of all she wanted to be loved. Her acute neck extended as she tried to touch the sweet voiced mare with her itty bitty muzzle, seeking attention. The little child just couldn't seem to reach, her body lurched forwards causing her small frame to topple over causing multiple seeds from the dandelions around her to jump up and follow the cool breeze of autumn.
Her little body was now sprawled on it's side, her head lifted in an awkward position as she tried to heave her weight upwards, so she could continue the same position. It was no use, she was just too darn weak to pull herself together.
Her petite muzzle collapsed in a patch of weeds, causing the girl to huff with exhaustion. Her lobes swiveled and blue eyes stared at the mare. "Are you my momma?" She huffed her voice low. "I'm positive I had a momma.....everybody has a momma right?" She was innocent and deeply confused about her situation. She was alone, then the palomino mare came. She had to be her momma right? She had the same coat as the equine above her, but a bit lighter in coloring.
She hesitated before lifting her tiny head, "Momma, why did you leave me?" She stared up at the mare, she had no concept of common sense. Nor need for it, she knew this mare was here for a reason, meaning she had to be her momma.
Cecillia
pic c elusive-art.deviantart.com
OCC: Oh! It's no trouble at all! I thought it would take a little longer than I hesitated! Take your time!
sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart
Such a sweet, beautiful little girl. Ducky’s heart melts as the tiny filly reaches out to her, desperate for the attention, and she can’t help but return the gesture. Her golden muzzle reaches out to the child’s own, softly brushing against the downy baby fur. The girl reminds her of her own children, her own sweet Golgotha, Isoke and Celyn. She loves all three of them so, so much, and misses them even now that they’ve grown up and gone off on their own.
Then her heart simply falls to pieces when the girl asks if she is her mother.
“Oh sweetheart …” She falls silent for a moment, at a loss for words. “I’m not your momma.” What kind of mother would leave their child here, in such a lonely place?
Then, ever so slowly, an idea begins to form in her mind. Sure, she’s not the girl’s mother … but who says she couldn’t be? She’s been abandoned here after all …
“Sweetie I’m not your mother, but I could be, if you want.” She doesn’t think Fynn would mind her bringing home such a sweet little thing home to the Trails. And, being that the girl is clearly a mini, she’d fit right in with the mostly shorter horses of their herd. “You could come home with me to Echo Trails. And I wouldn’t leave you. Not ever.” And maybe Fynn could be her dad too … but that’s something she’ll have to discuss with him first.
