11-10-2015, 12:47 AM
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Sunday's silence was unintentional at the beginning. Her eyeless daughter clung to her like a second skin, peering through her fog of sightlessness to observe the conversations with quick flicks of her ears. Sunday wondered if the foal would ever detach herself from her side and fulfill her own destiny - but she doesn't rush the child. It's her first child, she will always hold sway in the chestnut mare's large heart.
The jungle creature appears and Sunday offers a wicker of hello and welcome to the old spirit, despite how youthful it may seem. It has a level of familiarity with the stallion she's never seen before, and it probes her to dig deeper into that aura. The colors that surround him are the same purple that Lagertha's are - royalty, she's come to associate with - and a mingle of other things she's picking through. She's distracted, catching his associations and his lines as she sorts through each color respectively. Ah, yes, she sees the tie to the Amazons then.
The jungle spirit catches her attention then, its voice quiet and calm in her head. She listens, her brow furrowing. The conversation between the two has ended and Lagertha requests her assistance walking back to the heart of the jungle.
"Troubling, these attacks," Sunday says once they are well away from another. She knows they're alone - except her eyeless child - because she can feel the magic in the jungle like extensions of herself.
The jungle creature appears and Sunday offers a wicker of hello and welcome to the old spirit, despite how youthful it may seem. It has a level of familiarity with the stallion she's never seen before, and it probes her to dig deeper into that aura. The colors that surround him are the same purple that Lagertha's are - royalty, she's come to associate with - and a mingle of other things she's picking through. She's distracted, catching his associations and his lines as she sorts through each color respectively. Ah, yes, she sees the tie to the Amazons then.
The jungle spirit catches her attention then, its voice quiet and calm in her head. She listens, her brow furrowing. The conversation between the two has ended and Lagertha requests her assistance walking back to the heart of the jungle.
"Troubling, these attacks," Sunday says once they are well away from another. She knows they're alone - except her eyeless child - because she can feel the magic in the jungle like extensions of herself.
SUNDAY
the amazons magickal mare
the amazons magickal mare