"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
What a surprise - she gets no response. Not even any anger or annoyance, two traits she has come to expect in foals that are around her age. Or maybe it’s just that she feels them so much, she assumes that everyone else must too.
A switch seems to flick inside the mind of this Firion, which only serves to raise more questions. She doesn’t believe this straight-standing, faint-smile-wearing version is anything but a mask. For a moment she just watches, uncertain about whether she’s going to harass him further or not. She decides she can appreciate masks. There’s a feral note in that flash of teeth that she finds familiar and comforting, so she’ll pretend to let her questions drop.
For now, anyway. She thinks if she allows the conversation to change for a couple of moments, he’ll stop being so damn weird about whatever had happened to make him look so spooked when she first showed up.
The doe-Mazikeen huffs in exasperation again, short black-tipped tail flicking behind her. “Sometimes I get stuck. I think it’s an “experience” thing.” Although air quotes are not exactly easy for horses to accomplish, Mazikeen’s slight roll of her eyes and drawl of the word should get the task done.
“Pretty stupid of me, I know.” She says it like a joke, but she feels the sting of her own words. She feels like an idiot for not being able to do one simple thing - switch back into the form that was hers. The fact that she has an audience does not make it worse - she does not mind what others think, but she loathes her own failures.
Mazikeen can feel the pull on her mood like a physical weight and she suddenly decides that she very much does not want to focus on this anymore. Her dark deer-nose twitches as she abruptly changes the subject. “You hungry, Firion? Whatever you were running from seems to have disappeared,” She says this as casually as she can, her orange eyes even slide away from his face and to their surroundings, though she’s watching from her periphery to see if the words cause any reaction. See if her first guess hits a mark at all.
“It’s as good of a time as any for breakfast. I don’t know about you, but my night time endeavours made me work up quite the appetite.”
