FAMILIAR BREATH OF MY OLD LIES
CHANGED THE COLOR IN MY EYES
The poor darling, she hadn't meant to cause him a scare, perhaps she should have made more noise. She was terribly small though, and she hadn't been thinking how lightly her feet fell. It's something she should really take into consideration, but seeing as she often was shrinking away from frightful men- well, she might not get around to that.
She waits quietly as he composes himself, and she doesn't dare to laugh. The child had been through enough humility she decides, and instead she lets him look her over. It wouldn't take long for anyone to canvas her image, a pony-like size she was. Her coat a silvered black dapple, and only a few scattered scars to trace. Her hair fell in flaxen sheets down her neck, framing her face, and drawing attention to her eyes. They are the warmest cup of hot chocolate, lined with gold Egyptian cat eye markings- they are probably the most remarkable thing about her. Wichita's nose ends in a snow colored snip, adding a sweetness to her peachy muzzle.
Shifting her weight, she stares back before finally receiving his name. Azariel. He is a big child, would likely grow bigger, stronger. The strong name suited him she supposed, though it was not one she would have picked herself. Nevermind that though, a name was a name, any might do.
"That is a fine name," she assures him, because his name is likely the only thing he's been left with. "It's cold here," she reflects as the autumn wind tousles her coat, it was only now beginning to shag out for winter. "I can take ya somewhere warmer if ya like. You don't have ta stay here all alone." Wichita isn't sure if he knows this, but it's true he doesn't have to remain here. The little mare would be happy to bring him back home with her, there was always room at the Gates. "I have a home for ya if ya like. Let me take you to Heaven's Gates." If Wichita knew more of the world in a biblical sense, she would laugh at the irony of it all.