She doesn’t know why she assumed Ramiel would be the first to find them. Perhaps because he has always seemed a little worried, a little attached to the other ghost children. That one friend that holds the group together even when everyone is going their separate ways. And it’s ridiculous for her to feel disappointed, an uneasy feeling deep in her tummy, that he isn’t the first to reach them. They’ve spoken less than a half-dozen times and he’s a King, isn’t he, with important things to do other than babysit other broken ghost children. So she turns her head to look at the other mare, and forces a hesitant smile onto her face.
Where Kellyn is almost pink, a bright red chestnut diluted to a softer color but smattering of white hair, this girl is actually legitimately pink. Bright pink. Not Elite pink, the eye-shattering unnatural color but a deeper shade, like the very edges of a sunset. And framed in night-black. They must make a pretty picture, the three mares, two pink and a purple. Though Kellyn can’t help but wonder if the effect is ruined by the bits of her daughter that are rotting off – but that can’t be helped. “I’m Kellyn,” she offers her name in response, and glance back where Cassady is (predicatably) lagging behind. “And my daughter, Cassady.”
As for the rest – well, she can’t deny that she’s looking for him. For many reasons, but she supposes seeking a home is the least of her worries. “We are looking for Ramiel,” she agrees after a moment’s consideration. “And I suppose there’s no harm in looking together.” Okay so she isn’t the friendliest of creatures, but at least she’s vocalizing. A few years ago two sentences would have been much more than the voluntarily silent filly could manage. So it’s progress. And she knows she doesn’t have to say much – as soon as Cassady catches up, the filly will take full advantage of meeting someone who isn’t her family…someone who converses more easily than Kellyn.
daughter of cagney and elite