when the ashes has settled; any

[Crucified]

The boy child is alone but he is not frightened. Mother had left him with quiet words as she and father departed from Nerine. His young lavender eyes observe the way father leans into the dark woman, his words of love are lost in the wing and Cru wishes for a moment that he may join them but he knows they he can not. He must stay in Beqanna, to make them proud, to carry their blood and make them proud.

The dark colt, draft in his stocky form and loght feathering, looking more and more like Murc every day. He has stayed in Nerine because it reminds him of Hestia, the salt air tasting of her skin and the dampness of a spring storm calling his name like she once had. The devastation of early on desertion a blossoming feeling but he does not hate her. He does not hate Murc. His destiny is set in Nerine and whomever mother had left in her wake to rule the sea choked land.

Cru walks over the craggy land, pale purple eyes slit slightly against the early morning sun. His long large legs moving the young colt with a practiced easy of many tumbles. His young body harbors an old soul and soon he would decide whether to stay within the familiar confines of Nerine or venture out.

((Cru is the kid of Hestia and Murc. Let's see where this all goes  ))

[gallia]

The beach was always pretty in the mornings.

The chestnut filly bounded along, occasionally stumbling over stones and sand dunes, young knees already scraped up from her various adventures. Gallia didn’t mind, though. They stung when she first obtained them, but she always had some interesting new thing to do or explore that drew her attention away from the pain. She remembered the first time that she hadn’t cried out, looking with pride as blood welled into the scratches, resisting the urge with the dedication and stubbornness. She’d showed her mother, who smiled, though Gallia was oblivious to the sadness behind the smile. She was very much her mother’s daughter, after all.

Suddenly, the filly was distracted in her early wanderings by a figure in the distance. She stopped dead still to look for a minute, then started towards him without a hint of reservation. “Hey!” she called out as she came closer (mother told her not to sneak up on anyone, especially her). Gallia’s pale green eyes looked over the stranger with interest, thrilled to note that he was younger than most of the herd members, as perhaps that meant he might actually play with her. “Whatcha doin?” Gallia stopped as she spoke, a smidgen out of breath from trekking across the sand.