The girl hangs her head, and for a very brief moment, Straia almost feels bad. She is used to Erebor, who knows that her laughter is nothing but amusement. He knows that Straia understands there’s a story behind the hideously colored ponies that now litter Beqanna. He knows so much without her ever having to say it. But Shaytan is too close to Straia for that. Which the Queen knows, and should pay more attention to. Though still, Straia has trouble being anything but herself.
She takes a step forward, nipping at a light blue stand of hair. She picks it up, and then lets go, letting the piece of hair settle back into place. “Relax, darling. It’s all well and good.” She steps back just as the little black girl steps out to inspect Straia. She lets the child nose around, stare at her, do what children will do. She has very little experience with children that behave like children, though Sayaa doesn’t seem quite like the normal child either.
Straia spots the eyes, that copper color that borders on orange, and she wonders if the child is a product of the race to bear Covet children. If that stallion had ever worried about his legacy, he certainly didn’t need to do so now. Half the season’s generation belonged to the black stallion, and she feared they would all turn out as awkward and difficult and their father had been.
But hopefully not Sayaa. Not if she had anything to do with it, anyway. And she would, because it seemed highly unlikely Shaytan would protest. Not that Straia is convinced she can help the child become better adjusted than Shaytan could. Maybe Erebor would be of more use.
Straia also notes the clear lack of explanation, and she looks up at the mare with understanding. “I couldn’t have given you the girl.” She says, by way of an excuse for Shaytan. Straia may have some new found traits, but growing a penis isn’t one of them. She turns her attention back to the girl, sticking her nose out just slightly for the child to inspect. “You come find me, if you need anything. Okay? And eat some more. I’m sure your mother will let you.” This is partially directed at Shaytan, who might not be the most motherly type, but Straia guesses will listen to advice. The girl was a stick, and there were plenty of sticks in the Chamber already from all the trees. They didn’t need more.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission