11-04-2018, 11:18 AM
When she isn't looking at him, it's easy to forget that anything has gone awry. This is just the adventure she had planned, and if her younger brother is now suddenly years older, that is something she cannot change.
Magic has always been a fairy tale to the winged horse, who would be both puzzled and delighted to know that her own existence is just as questionable to some as magic is to her. But magic must be responsible for this, and she accepts this easily, in a way that is exclusive to the young and the naive. Wax is both of these.
The girl’s mind is occupied with exploration; the world her brother leads her through is entirely unfamiliar. Home was just the beach and the water and the myrtle grove; she can hardly take it in. There is tension in Wane’s shoulder as he brushes against her, and Wax turns her bright eyes upward to search his face. It’s gone by the time she looks though, and he has moved forward into the mouth of the save with determination.
Uncertain of what to expect, the flaxen-haired filly is occupied with looking around, and so she doesn’t notice anything wrong until Wane speaks from where he has moved ahead of her. There is something concentric about the cave floor, Wax realizes, little trinkets of the sea circling a center that is decidedly absent of anything important. It’s that empty space that her twin stares at, and that must have once held the egg that held her niece or nephew.
Raising her head, Wax scents the air for a moment.
“It didn’t crack.” She says definitively, assuming that a cracked horse egg must smells at least a little like a bird or turtle. There’s only the smell of the sea here, of her brother and a cold scent that is mostly snake but also horse. Having briefly wondered how her brother might have sired an egg when he himself was birthed, Wax begins to suspect that the egginess of her nibling is a result of its mother.
“Could it have hatched?” Asks the red girl, having turned in a circle furing her inspection of the empty cave. “Or maybe someone moved it?”
Magic has always been a fairy tale to the winged horse, who would be both puzzled and delighted to know that her own existence is just as questionable to some as magic is to her. But magic must be responsible for this, and she accepts this easily, in a way that is exclusive to the young and the naive. Wax is both of these.
The girl’s mind is occupied with exploration; the world her brother leads her through is entirely unfamiliar. Home was just the beach and the water and the myrtle grove; she can hardly take it in. There is tension in Wane’s shoulder as he brushes against her, and Wax turns her bright eyes upward to search his face. It’s gone by the time she looks though, and he has moved forward into the mouth of the save with determination.
Uncertain of what to expect, the flaxen-haired filly is occupied with looking around, and so she doesn’t notice anything wrong until Wane speaks from where he has moved ahead of her. There is something concentric about the cave floor, Wax realizes, little trinkets of the sea circling a center that is decidedly absent of anything important. It’s that empty space that her twin stares at, and that must have once held the egg that held her niece or nephew.
Raising her head, Wax scents the air for a moment.
“It didn’t crack.” She says definitively, assuming that a cracked horse egg must smells at least a little like a bird or turtle. There’s only the smell of the sea here, of her brother and a cold scent that is mostly snake but also horse. Having briefly wondered how her brother might have sired an egg when he himself was birthed, Wax begins to suspect that the egginess of her nibling is a result of its mother.
“Could it have hatched?” Asks the red girl, having turned in a circle furing her inspection of the empty cave. “Or maybe someone moved it?”