04-01-2019, 05:16 PM
let the petals fall where they may
The world can be a cruel place to such special creatures as herself. Her father had made sure to explain as much to her and she had listened with rapt attention. From the day she was born she was coddled and doted upon, for she was indeed something of a gem in her parents’ eyes. She is her mother’s firstborn child and her father’s first child in many years. Of course, Citadelle does not understand this - all she cares about is the looks of awe and admiration they gave her. They would lip her short forelock and praise her for nothing and her heart would swell as she beamed proudly back at them.
Such overconfidence is not exactly safe for children to handle, but that fact seemed far beyond the care of her parents and Citadelle certainly isn’t about to ruin a good thing. She already knows that she can get away with most anything she wants, which is why she is now wandering away toward the Meadow. She’d awoken with a sense of adventure and leaving her parents behind had been a simple task.
She wants to bring flowers back to them, maybe to braid into her father’s hair. She plucks blooms in purple and blue with yellows jjust for accents, and then some others for her mother as well. Her mother has red hair, so she chooses pink and white flowers, meticulously clipping and bunching the flowers with precision. She feels that she has gathered as many as she can find in the Meadow, for there were only a select few of each color that she sought… But then!
Then a rustle and a quiet little clutter of soft hooves breaks past her only a few feet from her nose. The colt runs perpendicular to her and continues on, but right before her eyes there are dozens more blossoms for her to gather.
Rather than hurry to her task, she draws back and blinks in awe, somewhat stunned, before she alters her course. She avoids stepping on the freshly born flowers but keeps her small bouquet in her mouth as she follows the trail that the other foal had left.
When she reaches him, she dips her head to settle the flowers she’d already gathered into a small bunch before she prances around to face the stranger. “Hey!” she bleats in a soft-yet-shrill voice, bright red ears perked forward and a slight frown on her face. Her expression is curious though, not angry. “How’d you do that?” she demands, gesturing toward the little haven of bright green grass and flowers that Beelzebub had left in his wake. “I want to know how to do that!” she adds with admiration.
Such overconfidence is not exactly safe for children to handle, but that fact seemed far beyond the care of her parents and Citadelle certainly isn’t about to ruin a good thing. She already knows that she can get away with most anything she wants, which is why she is now wandering away toward the Meadow. She’d awoken with a sense of adventure and leaving her parents behind had been a simple task.
She wants to bring flowers back to them, maybe to braid into her father’s hair. She plucks blooms in purple and blue with yellows jjust for accents, and then some others for her mother as well. Her mother has red hair, so she chooses pink and white flowers, meticulously clipping and bunching the flowers with precision. She feels that she has gathered as many as she can find in the Meadow, for there were only a select few of each color that she sought… But then!
Then a rustle and a quiet little clutter of soft hooves breaks past her only a few feet from her nose. The colt runs perpendicular to her and continues on, but right before her eyes there are dozens more blossoms for her to gather.
Rather than hurry to her task, she draws back and blinks in awe, somewhat stunned, before she alters her course. She avoids stepping on the freshly born flowers but keeps her small bouquet in her mouth as she follows the trail that the other foal had left.
When she reaches him, she dips her head to settle the flowers she’d already gathered into a small bunch before she prances around to face the stranger. “Hey!” she bleats in a soft-yet-shrill voice, bright red ears perked forward and a slight frown on her face. Her expression is curious though, not angry. “How’d you do that?” she demands, gesturing toward the little haven of bright green grass and flowers that Beelzebub had left in his wake. “I want to know how to do that!” she adds with admiration.
Citadelle
@[Beelzebub]