Sorry this fits here better (searching for a purpose); any

[Kensa]

for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

How does she always end up here in the winter? The world is cold and grey and ugly. It is a great deal like the day she first arrived in Beqanna. Maybe it is in remembrance of that anniversary that she wanders down to the field on this particular morning instead of spending it with her dear ones in her beautiful alpine home. A home that she loves so completely that it is a wonder she bothers to leave it at all. Even though she is  a Primarch of Hyaline, she is still a wandering adventure, who often goes ranging over the continent. Even during her least favorite season. Once again it is windy in the common lands, and the air burns her pale muzzle as she comes to the edge of the forest’s shelter.

It is a matter of luck that she has come out of the trees within sight of an unfamiliar buckskin mare. Kensa pulls up short in surprise just as the mare looks sharply in her direction, alert to her sudden appearance. Of course, gregarious Kensa is quick with a smile and she slips out of the trees on long white legs without hesitation. She is heavy with child, barrel a little wider than she can ever get used to and she feels as though she is squeezing out of the brush like some much larger and rounder creature. The gold that veins the borders of her markings gleams dully as she walks nearer, her greeting coming out in a fog of warm air.

“Hello. I’m Kensa… are you alright?” The question is asked gently, her topaz eyes are soft but polite. She does not have to have an answer, but realizes she should probably say so, turning her ears back abashed. “I’m sorry, its none of my business. Have you been here long?” Kensa reaches out in greeting, her gold and chestnut freckled face concerned but kind, and certainly curious.

kensa

for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.

@[Izora_Lethia]