burning cities and napalm skies; Castile

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. The grey pebbles feel odd beneath her hooves, uneven and too large compared to the fine-grained granite sand of Nerine. She is looking north, to where the sea lies beyond the treeline, and the winter wind blows her dark mane and tail like banners around her. She is tall and strong, but traces of the child are still evident in her open blue gaze and sweet smile. The grullo mare towers over her mother, but the two share the same light build and similar color and are unmistakably mother and daughter (or perhaps sisters, if Djinni is masked as she so often is). Today Starlin has chosen to spend away from her mother, another decision to strike out on her own. It is an expected part of growing up, but Starlin feels a bit out of her element as she inspects the treeline. Perhaps if she looks busy, no one will come talk to her and she’ll have time to compose herself. The tactic seems to work (or perhaps the other horses are just avoiding the weirdo who is scrutinizing the trees), and Starlin gathers herself together and prepares to partake in some social interaction. It won’t be terrible, she tells herself, everyone else does this all the time. The first horse she sees is facing away from her, grazing on the bits of greenery that poke through the thin layer of snow. “Hey,” she says, hoping that they turn around rather than ignore her. She’d pick him because he was closest, but now she thinks that there is something familiar about the pattern of his black and white coat and the shape of his jaw.

Starlin apparently has social anxiety. haha