show them the joy and the pain and the ending
She had always been the one that defies expectation, the one that no one knows what to make of. The one whose secrets have secrets of their own. Even her closest friends could never claim to know all that she is and all that she can do. Her brother perhaps has some inkling, but it is only because they had shared a womb for nearly a year. So it is perhaps fitting that she is drawn to those who cannot be categorized so neatly. Those who appear one thing on the surface, but are so much more beneath.
It does not take her long to discern that the pale yellow filly that had drawn her here is one such creature. Sight is her domain. In that respect, there is very little that escapes her notice when it comes to others actions and behaviors. She has learned through decades of practice how to delve much more deeply than the average equine might normally. There is so much to be seen, if only one knows where to look. And this young girl, as carefree and jubilant as she is, has more beneath the surface than one might expect.
Still, she is young. A child. And children are similar across the world. Across time and space even, and in that she is not so very different from the rest.
Though she knows to expect more, she is still mildly surprised by the exuberant way the golden child flings herself into her embrace. Before her children had been born, she had never been particularly maternal. Children had never found her enchanting or entertaining or even especially approachable. The considered chill of her blue gaze, the stillness of her demeanor, the sparsity of her words - these had all served to keep others at bay. Not just children, of course, but everyone. Her emotions might run hot just beneath the surface of that cool facade, but she had learned long ago how to keep them contained. Lifetimes had taught her that.
But the foreign and yet somehow familiar warmth of the child pressed against her chest, the scent of crushed grass and flowers, of sunny youth filling her nostrils as she presses her velvety muzzle instinctively against the smaller form of the child, serves only to bring some of the softer emotions to the fore. Emotions she had always before hidden so well. At least, until she had become her a mother.
So her eyes, when she glances at the now retreating child, are the petal-soft color of bluebells rather than the cold, distant blue of a cloudless winter sky. Her smile, though faint, is a true one and not the variety contrived for purposes of diplomacy. With only a few easy steps forward, she has come close enough to the patch of flowers and the lounging child to drop her nose in order to better inhale the scent of bruised grass and flowers and life.
Her head rising only a few inches, her gaze turns to find the shimmering, joyful girl, her protective urges rising swiftly to the fore as her mind considers the reasoning behind a lone child in the midst of the field. ”Have you family nearby? The field is not the safest of places for children alone.” A faint hint of concern touches her blue eyes, the smile slipping from her mouth. Perhaps she had not simply come because this filly reminds her so strongly of her own daughter. The thought alone is enough to have her seeking out any family the as yet nameless girl might have, that she might return her safely to their side and thus protect her from the vagaries of the often cruel place she had so guilelessly entered.
heartfire
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts