Not your baby // Yadigar, Any

[Tarte]

"

I've seen devils, i've seen saints
I've seen the line between them fade

I'm weary, but I manage a smile for girl who comes to me. She's beautiful. My utter opposite, in her gown of blue and gold, a perfect little horn on her brow. It would be no shock to me to learn that her mother is an angel, and that makes our contrast all the more stark. 

The serpentine length of my tail twists lazily at my hocks while I gather my words, looking over her and my shoulders to see if we are alone, or if she'd brought others with her. She certainly carries their scents. One, I think, I recognize. 

"I'm Tarte," I say, mouth twisted wryly at the taste of my own name. "D'you know a boy named Gar?" Eagerness and accusation color my tone. That's the scent I think I've detected, and I step closer to her to be sure. All of the scents are similar, threaded tightly together on her skin, so I reach out to inhale as closely as I can. My muzzle brushes the gleaming gold of her mane, tresses that are sure to be magnificent some day. 

It's closer than I'd normally dare get to a stranger, but that promise of someone familiar overrides my caution. His scent is there, I'm sure of it, and so Cirilla knows the dragon boy. A thread of jealously tightens on my heart. How lucky this girl is to know him! And well enough that his scent is embedded in her own. I take a step back again, waiting for her to speak. Aloud or not.

TARTE

@[cirilla]