lepis, comtesse of taiga
RUN AND TELL ALL OF THE ANGELS; THIS COULD TAKE ALL NIGHT
i think i need a devil to help me get things right
There is some cosmic balance, Lepis thinks to herself, that the winter has come along just as she has frozen over.
The waves that crash against the shore are the louder for the bits of ice they carry with them, and though they sparkle in the morning light the Comtesse finds no joy in them. She finds no joy in anything, though her expression brightens at Aquaria’s inquiry, and she assures the pale mare in easy tones that they are both well. The words all but choke her. Lepis’ blue mouth curls into a smile, wider still as the other fumbles over her own words. She’d not known about their relationship, it seems, but Lepis cannot blame the boy. It is not as though she introduces herself to others with the names of her parents, and when not viewed beside his family the stamp of his parentage is not so obvious in this world of colorful equines.
He looks more like his father, anyway, and the thought knifes through Lepis just as the nereid looks up at the sky that promises snow. The wince that accompanies it is hidden by the time she meets the girl’s purple eyes, and her own memories of hot springs are forced behind a mask of quiet contentment that accompanies a nod that says: she, too think the idea a splendid one.
Aquaria elaborates on their relationship: friends, a friendship where only Pteron does the visiting. He has other friends, Lepis knows, he has spoken of them in the vaguest terms: a boy in Hyaline, a girl in Loess, a filly he’d taken to visit Icicle Isle. All in different places, she thinks, and none of them ever here, never spoken of as a group or a pair or in any sort of detail. Lepis has never question why her son might keep might have them at such a distance, why he might not want them to meet. She had not questioned a great many things, she realizes.
“Why don’t I walk you to the meadow?” She asks, but it is clear by the way she takes a step forward and the raise of a brow that she expects Aquaria to come along without objection. “He should not be much longer, not with the snow coming, and you can meet him when he arrives.” The Comtesse begins to lead the way into the shadow of the redwood trees, away from the beach. Though she is a good hand shorter than the younger grey, she does not quite seem to be looking up at Aquaria when she asks: “And perhaps you can tell me exactly how well acquainted with my son you are?”
@[Aquaria]
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