Tornados from a butterfly's wing
Ama waited for him to dismiss her, to say that he would prefer the shoreline to himself for a while. She was feeling agreeable enough to comply. His response was quite the opposite to her expectation. One slender leg had already lifted to begin her ascent back to the headland, before his meaning registered properly.
Her finely sculpted head dipped uncertainly at his request. "Alright." She spoke, hardly louder than the waves on the beach. Like gems hidden deep in the belly of the earth, her eyes gleamed against her black velvet face, blinking in gentle confusion. Only a moment though, until knowing illuminated her face.
It was partly his influence, the smile she bestowed on the gold laced colt, but mostly it was the sensation of not being alone. Even surrounded by a herd of horses, the crystaline girl almost always felt that she stood apart. If it wasn't her insectine eyes that warded others off, her too-shrewd knowledge of their true feelings tended to do the trick. But here was a boy who had turned the sensations of embarrassment and worry into calm and peace.
Her tail swished against her hocks like a curious cat's as she regarded the horned colt with new intrigue. "Either you've got a better grip on your feelings than most horses do, or you're more talented than most horses are." She murmured, almost to herself. Two short steps brought her closer to the boy in question, expression alive with curiosity.
A rough laugh tipped from her lips at the flavor of gratitude he spilt to her. "It was selfish, I promise," she admitted with an impish grin. "Embarrassment is one of the worst feelings. Almost as bad as Guilt. The sooner others stop feeling them, the better. Otherwise, it's usually easier for me to just leave." She shrugged her narrow shoulders.
There was another option, though. One she suspected more than knew with any certainty. It would damn her for sure, if others thought she could force emotions onto them as well as feel what was already there. Ama didn't feel quite ready to experiment with that kind of control yet. Not when she was still learning about how emotions worked in the first place.
Her pretty little nose with it's singular patch of stark white bumped politely towards his coppery face. "I'm Amarine. From here, I suppose." She returned his introduction, tossing locks of vibrant hair from her eyes once again. A gusting sigh puffed past her lips, spinning away in a miniature dervish. "Lilliana is your momma, isn't she?" She asked, more for confirmation than actual curiosity. He looked like her, and like the boy Nashua who visited sometimes. Not as much as he used to, now, but Ama remembered him well enough.
...Amarine