Ember wonders about her family.
She tries to guess what her mother might look like, if her father would love and protect them. She wonders if she has brothers and sisters or if she's their first together—if she's the one and only for the both of them. It keeps her awake at night, this little guessing game; the tears turn to steam on her cheeks as her body grows hot with emotion and scorches the sand around her. As flames flicker to life along her spine and spread down each tendril of hair that makes up her mane and tail.
It happens that way almost every night, at least, until she succumbs to exhaustion and the heat and the flames all die out with one great big woosh. It will happen that way for a while yet.
Ember is spreading out her right wing, mesmerized by the way she can make the little flames flicker and dance along its edges, when she spies someone from the corner of her ruby red eye. He's equal parts fire and ash. Beautiful, at least to her, without really trying and she whips her head around to scrutinize him fully.
He pays her no mind and she swivels her ears towards him curiously. The less attention he gives, the more curious she gets—he's the only one thus far that hasn't looked at her funny, that hasn't come close because of the fire and the scales and she runs her tongue across her sharp teeth nervously. As far as he seems to be concerned, she doesn't exist, and she isn't exactly sure how to go about approaching someone that has not already acknowledged her directly. 'Notice me,' she thinks, her ears flicking back and her tail flicking anxiously. 'Notice me.'
He doesn't.
Ember snorts in frustration, slinking forwards—her red cloven hooves sinking down into the white sand, a stringy muscle in her little shoulder twitching beneath her scales. There's no reason for her to be annoyed with him, really, but it's the first time she's actually had someone deny her attention and it pricks painfully at something inside her; something that desperately doesn't want to be left alone.
"Hello," Ember says finally, trying to sound friendly despite the way her blood boils beneath the surface. The filly comes to an unsure stop some feet away, standing slightly off to his left—the ocean, in all its moonlit glory, spread out before them. "I'm... I'm Ember, what's your name?"
She tries to guess what her mother might look like, if her father would love and protect them. She wonders if she has brothers and sisters or if she's their first together—if she's the one and only for the both of them. It keeps her awake at night, this little guessing game; the tears turn to steam on her cheeks as her body grows hot with emotion and scorches the sand around her. As flames flicker to life along her spine and spread down each tendril of hair that makes up her mane and tail.
It happens that way almost every night, at least, until she succumbs to exhaustion and the heat and the flames all die out with one great big woosh. It will happen that way for a while yet.
Ember is spreading out her right wing, mesmerized by the way she can make the little flames flicker and dance along its edges, when she spies someone from the corner of her ruby red eye. He's equal parts fire and ash. Beautiful, at least to her, without really trying and she whips her head around to scrutinize him fully.
He pays her no mind and she swivels her ears towards him curiously. The less attention he gives, the more curious she gets—he's the only one thus far that hasn't looked at her funny, that hasn't come close because of the fire and the scales and she runs her tongue across her sharp teeth nervously. As far as he seems to be concerned, she doesn't exist, and she isn't exactly sure how to go about approaching someone that has not already acknowledged her directly. 'Notice me,' she thinks, her ears flicking back and her tail flicking anxiously. 'Notice me.'
He doesn't.
Ember snorts in frustration, slinking forwards—her red cloven hooves sinking down into the white sand, a stringy muscle in her little shoulder twitching beneath her scales. There's no reason for her to be annoyed with him, really, but it's the first time she's actually had someone deny her attention and it pricks painfully at something inside her; something that desperately doesn't want to be left alone.
"Hello," Ember says finally, trying to sound friendly despite the way her blood boils beneath the surface. The filly comes to an unsure stop some feet away, standing slightly off to his left—the ocean, in all its moonlit glory, spread out before them. "I'm... I'm Ember, what's your name?"
