07-16-2019, 08:34 AM
The snow at her feet is shallow, and Lepis kicks at it with the very tip of her dark forehooves as she makes her way through the forest. It flies out in graceful arcs that she watches with blue-grey eyes. With her shaggy winter’s coat and wings pulled tightly around her body, the small dun mare remains warm despite the season. Her path through the woods is meandering. She has done this often since the autumn, familiarizing herself with the geography of her newest home. She knows enough that she is somewhat surprised by the sound of voices on this particular afternoon, and her dark rimmed ears flick forward as she draws to a halt.
Without the crunch of her hooves to muffle them, the small mare recognizes the voices of her husband and youngest daughter. Eyas sounds emotional, and without a second thought Lepis projects. Sadness, joy, anger, peacefulness. One after the other in rapidfire succession, a wordless reminder to the young noble to better keep her emotions in check in front of others (for she realizes that there is an unknown roan mare beside them as she finds them among the trees).
The lesson is softened by the briefest touch of maternal love, a reminder of her own emotions that comes just as Lepis draws up beside her buckskin daughter and presses a soft touch to the hard silk of her black wings in greeting. To her husband she gives a brief glance, but soon turns to take in the by the words of the blue and white mare and then those of her husband. The roan smells of Nerine and Lepis confirms that when she speaks. This must be Heartfire then, the great-grandmother to her children as well as the Queen of Nerine.
Queen of the Taiga as well, Lepis knows, but the small nod she offers Heartfire in greeting and recognition is not the nod best-fitting of a subservient territory leader to their monarch. Lepis hasn’t ever excelled at bending and scraping, after all, and would far prefer to be the one to whom such actions are directed. Still, she is not disrespectful, and the smile the follows the nod is quite friendly.
“I’d told Eyas I would take her and Gale with me to Nerine to ask your guidance in learning their abilities.” She tells the older mare, shifting into the conversation as though she has been a part from the beginning. The tight rein that she has on her own emotions allows the Comtesse to name her son without a break in her voice, though it does not keep the sadness from her blue-grey eyes. Unsure how much on formality the stranger-queen might stand, Lepis chooses to take responsibility for her daughter’s outburst, knowing that at heart she is the one who had not fulfilled her promise to Eyas after Gale’s death.
“I’d been planning on directing our diplomats to pay your kingdom a visit,” she adds, “but if you’re here for more than a social visit, perhaps I might save them a trip.” Lepis had not arrived in time to hear Heartfire’s earlier declaration that hers was not a social visit. “I’m Lepis,” she adds, knowing an introduction is all but unnecessary but still fond of protocol.
@[Heartfire] @[Wolfbane] @[Eyas]
Without the crunch of her hooves to muffle them, the small mare recognizes the voices of her husband and youngest daughter. Eyas sounds emotional, and without a second thought Lepis projects. Sadness, joy, anger, peacefulness. One after the other in rapidfire succession, a wordless reminder to the young noble to better keep her emotions in check in front of others (for she realizes that there is an unknown roan mare beside them as she finds them among the trees).
The lesson is softened by the briefest touch of maternal love, a reminder of her own emotions that comes just as Lepis draws up beside her buckskin daughter and presses a soft touch to the hard silk of her black wings in greeting. To her husband she gives a brief glance, but soon turns to take in the by the words of the blue and white mare and then those of her husband. The roan smells of Nerine and Lepis confirms that when she speaks. This must be Heartfire then, the great-grandmother to her children as well as the Queen of Nerine.
Queen of the Taiga as well, Lepis knows, but the small nod she offers Heartfire in greeting and recognition is not the nod best-fitting of a subservient territory leader to their monarch. Lepis hasn’t ever excelled at bending and scraping, after all, and would far prefer to be the one to whom such actions are directed. Still, she is not disrespectful, and the smile the follows the nod is quite friendly.
“I’d told Eyas I would take her and Gale with me to Nerine to ask your guidance in learning their abilities.” She tells the older mare, shifting into the conversation as though she has been a part from the beginning. The tight rein that she has on her own emotions allows the Comtesse to name her son without a break in her voice, though it does not keep the sadness from her blue-grey eyes. Unsure how much on formality the stranger-queen might stand, Lepis chooses to take responsibility for her daughter’s outburst, knowing that at heart she is the one who had not fulfilled her promise to Eyas after Gale’s death.
“I’d been planning on directing our diplomats to pay your kingdom a visit,” she adds, “but if you’re here for more than a social visit, perhaps I might save them a trip.” Lepis had not arrived in time to hear Heartfire’s earlier declaration that hers was not a social visit. “I’m Lepis,” she adds, knowing an introduction is all but unnecessary but still fond of protocol.
@[Heartfire] @[Wolfbane] @[Eyas]
