08-09-2019, 09:17 PM
She doesn’t notice Turul banking sharply after the display, her attention is heavy on the softly glowing stallion's words. The filly sees only him, and when he admits to not knowing any jokes, her brow crumples slightly in disappointment, disappointment that quickly sheds with his offer of more magic, and stories of stars. But just as she opens her mouth to ask, Aten arrives, tall and stern, stepping forward into the small clearing and signaling the end of childish questions. She ducks her head, lips closing, and cranes her neck to peer upwards at Aten towering above her. Then, a flood.
“There were lights! Did you see the lights? He made them!” She turns back, bright gaze landing on the pale stallion once more, “And then one hit my nose so I couldn’t see for a minute, but I’m okay! And he was going to tell me a joke, but I guess he doesn’t know any, so he was gonna tell me about stars instead! But, probably you don’t wanna hear about stars?”
This last question is angled back at Aten, just the faintest hint of hope lingering on her tongue that perhaps Aten is interested in stars and magic. One ear turns, catching the sounds of two horses approaching with some haste, and she turns just as Lethy appears between the trees, Owin in tow. Immediately, her view of the Hyalinian stranger becomes obscured, and she dances back a few steps as the mare blockades her protectively. When Lethy scolds her, a roguish grin settles over her and Popinjay leans forward, pressing her forehead and the dimmed star against the space behind the golden mare’s shoulder.
“I’ll be more careful next time.” Though her murmured voice sounds contrite enough, dark eyes find Owin’s and flash conspiratorially.
“There were lights! Did you see the lights? He made them!” She turns back, bright gaze landing on the pale stallion once more, “And then one hit my nose so I couldn’t see for a minute, but I’m okay! And he was going to tell me a joke, but I guess he doesn’t know any, so he was gonna tell me about stars instead! But, probably you don’t wanna hear about stars?”
This last question is angled back at Aten, just the faintest hint of hope lingering on her tongue that perhaps Aten is interested in stars and magic. One ear turns, catching the sounds of two horses approaching with some haste, and she turns just as Lethy appears between the trees, Owin in tow. Immediately, her view of the Hyalinian stranger becomes obscured, and she dances back a few steps as the mare blockades her protectively. When Lethy scolds her, a roguish grin settles over her and Popinjay leans forward, pressing her forehead and the dimmed star against the space behind the golden mare’s shoulder.
“I’ll be more careful next time.” Though her murmured voice sounds contrite enough, dark eyes find Owin’s and flash conspiratorially.
Popinjay
She was not quite what you would call refined
