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XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#5a605e',endColorstr='#5a605e',GradientType=0)}.valensia_quote{position:relative;z-index:21;color:rgba(230,207,193,0.8);font:13px 'Sofadi One',cursive;text-align:center;padding-bottom:20px}.valensia_text{position:relative;z-index:12;font:13px 'Cutive Mono',monospace;text-align:justify;padding:20px;width:410px;color:#e6cfc1;margin-top:-62px}.valensia_name{position:relative;z-index:17;font:50px 'Astloch',cursive;color:rgba(230,207,193,0.8);text-align:left;padding-left:10px;text-shadow:0 0 10px #6e2327;margin-top:-50px;margin-bottom:45px}</style><center><div class="valensia_border"><div class="valensia_background"><img class="valensia_pic" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d7/7f/f2/d77ff22fcc23927cf303616613502352.jpg"><div class="valensia_grad"></div><div class="valensia_name">Valensia</div><div class="valensia_text">
She wants to learn to fly, but a part of her is a little scared that it won’t work because of the bone wing. Standing still, holding her breath, and squeezing her eyes shut tight; she flaps vigorously lacking all grace and elegance in doing this. So far it hasn’t worked, but this could just be lack of training. It’s in the middle of her attempts that a jumpy young colt urges her to join in the bustle of children gathering around a mare. Startled by his sudden appearance her feathered wing slaps his face. <b>I’m so sor...</b> The child doesn’t let her finish the gasping sentence. Instead he urges her to listen to the story that is about to be told.
Val doesn't exactly remember why it is that mama sends her to play in the playground. Leaving Tephra isn’t exactly something she planned on doing any time soon. The delicate filly has been spending most of her time becoming familiar with the land she is being raised in. Nibbling on her lip she debates on this for a moment, she didn’t want to come to the playground in the first place, but hearing a story? It’s a tempting moment. Shifting in her indecision soon she finds herself edging into the excited group.
Glancing over the faces one in particular stands out her, and for a moment her ears perk up, a goofy grin lighting up her face. Before she reaches him, she is jostled backwards away from Gansey and drowned within the sea of bodies. Disappointment sinks her stomach to the depths of earth, she is pretty sure that he hadn’t even noticed her presence. In a way it stings her, and she doesn’t quite understand why. She wants all her siblings to be happy, to get along, and love the life they have; just as she, herself, does. Now that the story is starting it’s too late for her to get his attention. She half listens to the mare, not fully paying attention, to focused on Gansey and the look on his face. The filly knows that look on her sibling’s face all too well; he hasn’t been sleeping again. No matter how hard she tries to work up her courage though she hasn’t been able to bring herself to reach out to him yet.
Val tries to focus on the woman’s words, <i>maybe this is why mama wanted me to come here</i>. She knows that mama worries about Gansey, and loves them all; but they are still learning to be a family, and for some of them adjusting isn’t a walk in the park. The story ends, and while others ask questions she remains silent hoping against hope that Gansey would see her. It doesn’t happen though, and she forces herself to focus on the woman’s command. If, after, her attention diverted back to the mare he happens to notice her; Val is to wrapped up in deciding where she will go to return the favor.
Somehow, after a bit of aimless walking she finds herself by the riverbank where several adults are gathered. She looks from to another unsure quite how to politely interrupt them. She nibbles her lip once more before clearing her throat timidly. <b>Please, can you tell me where to find Santa</b>? Wide eyed and hopeful, she looks from one to the other as they stare back at the filly in shock. It’s only when she warbles her ears nervously that they burst out with laughter commenting on how cute kids can be, and oh isn’t it precious that they believe so easily. Asking where Santa Claus is appears to be harder than she originally thought.
She begins again, choosing another path to follow, and this one leads up the side of a mountain. Here she picks her way carefully through the sharp rocks along the craggy cliffs. As she goes up, the air thins. It’s cold but clear, nothing like the cloying scent of lush vegetation in her home of Tephra. Pausing halfway up before the fog cover completely obliterates her vision she takes a few huffing breathes. Taking time to look around below her; Val notices that it’s a long way down, and the black roan filly begins to question her sanity in coming up here. A clattering stone tumbles past her, and when she looks to the source of it her eyes squint trying to capture the shadowy shape emerging from the fog. Her eyes widen, this time it's surprise rather than the hope and innocence of a youth. <b>Santa? S-she said to look for you, I hope that is alright?</b> Val shifts nervously ears perked forward.</div><div class="valensia_quote"><br>“And there was you - your fair self,<br>always delicately dressed,<br>with white firm fingers sure of touch <br>in delicate true work. <br>I loved you then.” <br>- Charlotte Gilman</div></div></div></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#5a605e',endColorstr='#5a605e',GradientType=0)}.valensia_quote{position:relative;z-index:21;color:rgba(230,207,193,0.8);font:13px 'Sofadi One',cursive;text-align:center;padding-bottom:20px}.valensia_text{position:relative;z-index:12;font:13px 'Cutive Mono',monospace;text-align:justify;padding:20px;width:410px;color:#e6cfc1;margin-top:-62px}.valensia_name{position:relative;z-index:17;font:50px 'Astloch',cursive;color:rgba(230,207,193,0.8);text-align:left;padding-left:10px;text-shadow:0 0 10px #6e2327;margin-top:-50px;margin-bottom:45px}</style><center><div class="valensia_border"><div class="valensia_background"><img class="valensia_pic" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d7/7f/f2/d77ff22fcc23927cf303616613502352.jpg"><div class="valensia_grad"></div><div class="valensia_name">Valensia</div><div class="valensia_text">She wants to learn to fly, but a part of her is a little scared that it won’t work because of the bone wing. Standing still, holding her breath, and squeezing her eyes shut tight; she flaps vigorously lacking all grace and elegance in doing this. So far it hasn’t worked, but this could just be lack of training. It’s in the middle of her attempts that a jumpy young colt urges her to join in the bustle of children gathering around a mare. Startled by his sudden appearance her feathered wing slaps his face. <b>I’m so sor...</b> The child doesn’t let her finish the gasping sentence. Instead he urges her to listen to the story that is about to be told.
Val doesn't exactly remember why it is that mama sends her to play in the playground. Leaving Tephra isn’t exactly something she planned on doing any time soon. The delicate filly has been spending most of her time becoming familiar with the land she is being raised in. Nibbling on her lip she debates on this for a moment, she didn’t want to come to the playground in the first place, but hearing a story? It’s a tempting moment. Shifting in her indecision soon she finds herself edging into the excited group.
Glancing over the faces one in particular stands out her, and for a moment her ears perk up, a goofy grin lighting up her face. Before she reaches him, she is jostled backwards away from Gansey and drowned within the sea of bodies. Disappointment sinks her stomach to the depths of earth, she is pretty sure that he hadn’t even noticed her presence. In a way it stings her, and she doesn’t quite understand why. She wants all her siblings to be happy, to get along, and love the life they have; just as she, herself, does. Now that the story is starting it’s too late for her to get his attention. She half listens to the mare, not fully paying attention, to focused on Gansey and the look on his face. The filly knows that look on her sibling’s face all too well; he hasn’t been sleeping again. No matter how hard she tries to work up her courage though she hasn’t been able to bring herself to reach out to him yet.
Val tries to focus on the woman’s words, <i>maybe this is why mama wanted me to come here</i>. She knows that mama worries about Gansey, and loves them all; but they are still learning to be a family, and for some of them adjusting isn’t a walk in the park. The story ends, and while others ask questions she remains silent hoping against hope that Gansey would see her. It doesn’t happen though, and she forces herself to focus on the woman’s command. If, after, her attention diverted back to the mare he happens to notice her; Val is to wrapped up in deciding where she will go to return the favor.
Somehow, after a bit of aimless walking she finds herself by the riverbank where several adults are gathered. She looks from to another unsure quite how to politely interrupt them. She nibbles her lip once more before clearing her throat timidly. <b>Please, can you tell me where to find Santa</b>? Wide eyed and hopeful, she looks from one to the other as they stare back at the filly in shock. It’s only when she warbles her ears nervously that they burst out with laughter commenting on how cute kids can be, and oh isn’t it precious that they believe so easily. Asking where Santa Claus is appears to be harder than she originally thought.
She begins again, choosing another path to follow, and this one leads up the side of a mountain. Here she picks her way carefully through the sharp rocks along the craggy cliffs. As she goes up, the air thins. It’s cold but clear, nothing like the cloying scent of lush vegetation in her home of Tephra. Pausing halfway up before the fog cover completely obliterates her vision she takes a few huffing breathes. Taking time to look around below her; Val notices that it’s a long way down, and the black roan filly begins to question her sanity in coming up here. A clattering stone tumbles past her, and when she looks to the source of it her eyes squint trying to capture the shadowy shape emerging from the fog. Her eyes widen, this time it's surprise rather than the hope and innocence of a youth. <b>Santa? S-she said to look for you, I hope that is alright?</b> Val shifts nervously ears perked forward.</div><div class="valensia_quote"><br>“And there was you - your fair self,<br>always delicately dressed,<br>with white firm fingers sure of touch <br>in delicate true work. <br>I loved you then.” <br>- Charlotte Gilman</div></div></div></center>