[open] don't let those butterflies out - any

[lilliana]

Lilli keeps finding similarities between this place and the one she has left. The feeling it brings her is a simple one – comfort. There are obvious, comparable things. The sky is blue as it has always been, the sun rises in the east and falls in the west and the moon repeats the cycle. She hadn’t expected anything different really but that’s the thing about braving the unknown... how is one to know what exactly is out there? The crimson girl is not much of the adventurous sort. She had a childhood where she was tucked safely away in the heart of her family, always surrounded by brothers and sisters and family members who were careful to make sure she was never far away. And she hadn’t minded. Where else would she have gone? Everything that Lilli had ever known was in her own little world of Murmuring Rivers and while her dreams might have gone towards the heavens, she had been content to stay within the watchful and loving gaze of her family.

But they aren’t here now.

That thought always comes to her, unbidden and unwanted. It always hits her in the same wavelike fashion, crashing over like a breaker might against the jagged rocks. She longs for them in a moment of uncertainty with the approaching stallion. If they were here, if her brother were here, if her mother… And then another similarity has been found. Her mother has been here. Perhaps stood in this very spot. The child-like curiosity comes to play then, wrapping itself around Lilliana’s fears and anxieties. The rapid racing of her heart slows (though it remains somewhat erratic), the ringing sound falls away, leaving Lilli only to hear the teasing tones in his words. He seems to ask the question more to the autumn air around than herself, a question more for those fickle fates than a young mare.

Lilli lets the quiet hang, studying the painted male under her thick lashes. She still hasn’t quite got over the shock of him – all splendid, shining gold and that iridescent blue. The chestnut has seen unusual colors before, all colors of the rainbow bestowed on an equine form. She has seen the wings and the horns, the blessings, and curses of what they can carry. But there is something about him that is bewildering, like a riddle she can’t quite piece together. The curiosity comes again, playing across those icy blue eyes and she tilts her head up to his slightly, keeping a steady gaze.

And then the flower child smiles, appreciating the humor in his words. ”Lucky for you, I have plenty of time,” she teases back, a bantering reply that comes easily. She has missed this, she realizes. There has been none to talk to in her journey here, a journey that has taken a few months and has left the chestnut leaner than she has been. It has been only been herself and the birds and the sky to share her musings with. The words, the simple exchange of them with a stranger, make her feel a little lighter and help lift those silent pangs for home and family. The stallion offers his name and she nods a small, slight movement. Her smile warms at the mention of his  nickname, pleased to find another similarity this day. “Lilliana," she offers in return, “but everybody calls me Lilli.”

wolfbane