08-19-2019, 07:36 AM
Celina edges closer to adolescence with each passing day, but there is no doubt that she is very much a child still when she spots Leilan. She goes wide-eyed, as frozen in her splay-legged position as a fawn. There is no fight or flight instinct in her yet, just the biological imperative that she freeze in the face of potential danger. But the roan stallion is neither a mountain lion nor a wolf, and Celina’s tense muscles relax as she lets out the breath she hadn’t meant to hold.
“Hello!” she repeats for the third time, but at last it is a greeting rather than a question. The six-month old filly takes a few steps toward the approaching stallion, unperturbed by his scrutiny. She does much the same, determining by smell that he is not Father is disguise, and then by the timbre of his voice when he speaks. There’s a warning in his voice, a question that she’s not sure she should answer. Celina had known that her parents might forbid her late night adventure, but it had never occurred to her that those she met might feel the same way.
For a moment she feels uncertain, unsure, and then the chestnut mare arrives and her warmth reassures young Celina. The quiet smile she’d been wearing brightens under the sabino’s gentle encouragement, and she bobs her head in an enthusiastic nod.
“I made it up here all by myself!” She tells them both. “All the way from home!” Here she turns about, pointing toward the redwood forest that lies in the distance. The nightly fog has crept in already, and those trees nearest the sea have already been lost to sight and distance. The striped filly turns back as Kensa introduces herself, and Celina shakes her head to indicate that no – she has not been to Hyaline before.
“I’m Celina,” she tells them as one of her fireflies alights in her mane and blinks brightly. “I came to explore!”
As she says this, her seafoam green eyes slip back to the roan stallion that Kensa has named as Leilan, and she remembers that he had asked where her mother was. Celina is not entirely sure (maybe with Papa? Or maybe on her way back from one of her frequent trips to Loess?) but she supposes that he might be wondering what her mother might want if she were here. This presents another opportunity for Celina, who thinks that perhaps this adventure trip might also be a good way to prove to her parents that she is old enough to wander by herself. And what better way than to do something that they’d like?
“And maybe to find a husband. For my sister. She’s very old.” This is not true, of course, Marni has only seen three springs. To Celina, who has only experienced two seasons though, her winged sibling is impossible ancient. Only a little younger than the redwoods, and Mother and Papa. “Oh! And recruits. Papa wants someone to train. I told him he could train me but he said I am too small and that I have to be at least a billions years old first.” This is also untrue – he’d told her she had to have at least one birthday.
“Do you have any husbands here?” She asks the pair of older horses, her innocent smile suggesting that such a question is not so different than asking an Ischian if they have any mangoes. “Or any recruits?”
@[Leilan]
@[Kensa]
“Hello!” she repeats for the third time, but at last it is a greeting rather than a question. The six-month old filly takes a few steps toward the approaching stallion, unperturbed by his scrutiny. She does much the same, determining by smell that he is not Father is disguise, and then by the timbre of his voice when he speaks. There’s a warning in his voice, a question that she’s not sure she should answer. Celina had known that her parents might forbid her late night adventure, but it had never occurred to her that those she met might feel the same way.
For a moment she feels uncertain, unsure, and then the chestnut mare arrives and her warmth reassures young Celina. The quiet smile she’d been wearing brightens under the sabino’s gentle encouragement, and she bobs her head in an enthusiastic nod.
“I made it up here all by myself!” She tells them both. “All the way from home!” Here she turns about, pointing toward the redwood forest that lies in the distance. The nightly fog has crept in already, and those trees nearest the sea have already been lost to sight and distance. The striped filly turns back as Kensa introduces herself, and Celina shakes her head to indicate that no – she has not been to Hyaline before.
“I’m Celina,” she tells them as one of her fireflies alights in her mane and blinks brightly. “I came to explore!”
As she says this, her seafoam green eyes slip back to the roan stallion that Kensa has named as Leilan, and she remembers that he had asked where her mother was. Celina is not entirely sure (maybe with Papa? Or maybe on her way back from one of her frequent trips to Loess?) but she supposes that he might be wondering what her mother might want if she were here. This presents another opportunity for Celina, who thinks that perhaps this adventure trip might also be a good way to prove to her parents that she is old enough to wander by herself. And what better way than to do something that they’d like?
“And maybe to find a husband. For my sister. She’s very old.” This is not true, of course, Marni has only seen three springs. To Celina, who has only experienced two seasons though, her winged sibling is impossible ancient. Only a little younger than the redwoods, and Mother and Papa. “Oh! And recruits. Papa wants someone to train. I told him he could train me but he said I am too small and that I have to be at least a billions years old first.” This is also untrue – he’d told her she had to have at least one birthday.
“Do you have any husbands here?” She asks the pair of older horses, her innocent smile suggesting that such a question is not so different than asking an Ischian if they have any mangoes. “Or any recruits?”
@[Leilan]
@[Kensa]