For the first time in perhaps his entire life, Cassian finds that his existence is not quite so meandering and unpurposed as it had once been. It is a strange feeling, to know that he had helped make something. To find happiness in such small, perfect faces. But he is happy. Delighted, really. He had always liked children a great deal, and now that they are his own, he finds he likes them a great deal more.
It almost helps him forget that if he hadn’t been quite so dogged in his determination to find Beryl again, he might never have known. But then, he’s always been particularly good at not dwelling on things that make him uncomfortable (wonder where he gets that from?). Still, if he weren’t convinced that she might try to eat his face again if he annoyed her too much, he’d still be there right now. In the interest of saving his own skin however, he had decided that leaving, at least long enough to tell someone (probably mom, because let’s be real, who else would he tell), would be the better part of valor.
As luck would have it, he finds himself in the meadow, moving rather slowly, lost in his own thoughts. He doesn’t notice the dark mare approaching him with curiosity and confusion written across her form until he speaks. When she does, he whips his head around to peer at her in surprise, features illuminated by the soft glow of the halo perched slightly askew above his ears.
He doesn’t recognize her of course, but then, last time they’d met she’d sported bony spines, a knife-like tail, and razor teeth inside an unnaturally elongated skull. So it should come as no surprise that confusion also weaves heavily across his brow as he stares at her, trying to place her. But Cassian, being Cassian, can’t seem to help the slightly cocky grin that begins to creep across his lips. “Am I?” he asks, his voice surprisingly chipper in the face of such a dark subject. His amused grin is almost apologetic now, in an unapologetically teasing way. “I’ve heard I have a bad habit of not doing what I’m supposed to.”
@[Nostromo]