05-25-2015, 05:23 PM
Oh look, oh my star is fading
She melts away from the diplomatic meeting silently, following her mother wordlessly to the meeting. She is still astonished at all the things that the jungle is; really, she's astonished at all the things that life is. She's barely half a year old, and the world is still somehow intangible, impossibly fresh and new and fascinating. Perhaps that fascination will fade in time, beaten out of her by a life that has always been destined to be terrible and unforgiving. Or perhaps it will defy the odds, lingering on. She stays close to her mother's side (but not too close, not close enough to diminish her mother's queenly bearing). She listens silently as Scorch speaks, interested in every word and yet lacking most of the context to understand any of it. She had been present for the meeting with the horses from the Desert, but she'd understood little and less of that too. But still she listens, making mental notes – Deserts, Gates, Falls, Tundra, Dale, Valley, all places that seem terribly abstract to her. Perhaps she should visit them, learn about them. Maybe they're pretty like the jungle, she thinks.
Scorch closes with an invitation to speak freely, and then an oath. Wrynn hasn't been taught or told what the oath means, but she's put two and two together – nearly every mare in the jungle has the same marking on their foreleg and chest, a green vine and a red bud. In silence, Wrynn listens as two fillies of her age group (neither of whom she's ever met, she's not been the most outgoing sort) swear it, and she wonders at them. How can they commit themselves to something so completely at their age? If they're anything like her, they barely know themselves – how can they pledge their hearts? But it is not her position to question, not her place to wonder such things, and so she is silent, a little bay shadow next to her mother, small and pretty, unremarkable except for her rainbow eyes.
When their answers become fewer and more far between, after a mare with tattoos like lightning who smells like a storm, Wrynn finally speaks – but just a little. "I can do a visit, if we need someone else." her voice is quiet, as though she's trying to keep her words hushed so it would be easy to talk over her, interrupt her, and drown her out if necessary.
wrynn