you were a vision in the morning
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion
when i've lied with you
and i'm still waking every morning
but it's not with you
when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion
when i've lied with you
and i'm still waking every morning
but it's not with you
.
It is indescribable how much better she feels just being here with them — like a part of her heart had been missing, and she finally found it again. The older she turned, the more she grew to realize how incredibly lucky she was, to have a mother, a father, and a step-mother that genuinely loved and cared for her. She was one of the few to grow up knowing nothing but love and warmth, and it showed in the way she was so eager to spread that love with others. To now have two younger sisters to be raised in that same glow, she couldn’t imagine anything better.
Even with being ill, the smile that alights her face is vibrant when Oisin bravely steps forward, extending her own golden muzzle to touch the little girl’s own. ”Oisin,” She says as she takes her own step forward, brushing her muzzle just lightly against the top of her head, unable to contain the laugh as she says, ”We don’t look alike, but you remind me of me.” It wasn’t that long ago when she herself had been a small, chaotically brilliant, and adventuresome filly. She has grown so much, and even though her thirst for adventure hasn’t lessened, she has definitely quieted as she grew older. Or perhaps it was just the fever and the ache in her lungs that seemed to never go away.
The other little girl is much quieter, and she can feel her eyes soften when she looked at her. Her spots reminded her of Breckin. She can feel a surge of protectiveness suddenly take over her, at the idea that anything in this life could ever cause her sweet little sister pain; either one of them. They were her little sisters, and she didn’t ever want them to feel sad, or scared, or alone. ”Hi, Eurwen,” Her words are gentler, her gold-blazed head lowering to offer her nose for the filly touch. ”You have pretty spots just like your mama, you know that?”
She withdraws when she notices that Breckin is doing something, and, just as she has done with the flower, she beckons snow. The roan girl doesn’t move as the snow rubs against her muzzle, the dried blood flaking away with the icy cold of it, and she stifles a cough as she says gratefully, ”Thank you,” and then without hesitation she nestles herself against Breckin’s side, her body feeling so warm and welcoming compared to the constant chill the fever had her living in. Her question is met with a tilt of her head, a through the glassiness of her sickly eyes there is still an impish glint when she retorts, ”I never get in trouble. Except for catching the plague, and — “ There is a pause, glancing back towards the partially healed mark on her shoulder. ”I finally found a kelpie. But he’s not the same one that bit dad.” As if that really made a difference. The foolish girl still didn’t realize she was lucky to escape the encounter relatively unscathed, and she still hadn’t a clue of the trouble she was potentially stirring.
Even with being ill, the smile that alights her face is vibrant when Oisin bravely steps forward, extending her own golden muzzle to touch the little girl’s own. ”Oisin,” She says as she takes her own step forward, brushing her muzzle just lightly against the top of her head, unable to contain the laugh as she says, ”We don’t look alike, but you remind me of me.” It wasn’t that long ago when she herself had been a small, chaotically brilliant, and adventuresome filly. She has grown so much, and even though her thirst for adventure hasn’t lessened, she has definitely quieted as she grew older. Or perhaps it was just the fever and the ache in her lungs that seemed to never go away.
The other little girl is much quieter, and she can feel her eyes soften when she looked at her. Her spots reminded her of Breckin. She can feel a surge of protectiveness suddenly take over her, at the idea that anything in this life could ever cause her sweet little sister pain; either one of them. They were her little sisters, and she didn’t ever want them to feel sad, or scared, or alone. ”Hi, Eurwen,” Her words are gentler, her gold-blazed head lowering to offer her nose for the filly touch. ”You have pretty spots just like your mama, you know that?”
She withdraws when she notices that Breckin is doing something, and, just as she has done with the flower, she beckons snow. The roan girl doesn’t move as the snow rubs against her muzzle, the dried blood flaking away with the icy cold of it, and she stifles a cough as she says gratefully, ”Thank you,” and then without hesitation she nestles herself against Breckin’s side, her body feeling so warm and welcoming compared to the constant chill the fever had her living in. Her question is met with a tilt of her head, a through the glassiness of her sickly eyes there is still an impish glint when she retorts, ”I never get in trouble. Except for catching the plague, and — “ There is a pause, glancing back towards the partially healed mark on her shoulder. ”I finally found a kelpie. But he’s not the same one that bit dad.” As if that really made a difference. The foolish girl still didn’t realize she was lucky to escape the encounter relatively unscathed, and she still hadn’t a clue of the trouble she was potentially stirring.
chryseis
It did something weird when I edited the html and it had the tags in here twice so I just took them out. I'm sure you guys can remember I posted to you :|