02-11-2018, 03:36 PM
Springtime on the coast is in full bloom.
African lilly, allium, poppies, and bleeding hearts; they transform the grey coast with their bright splashes of color. This is Starlin's favorite season in Nerine.
While the coastal realm is beautiful year round, this is the season that they had come to Nerine, and so it retains a nostalgic place in her heart. No longer the little filly that had arrived at her mother's side, Starlin has become a woman grown.
Inheriting her mother's slender build and her father's height, hard work and exercise have put impressive muscle beneath her sleek grullo hide. While she is still untested in true battle, she has shallow scars from her practice battles, spars against whatever foes her mother could dream up.
There have been less of those lately.
Without Nayl - without Isobell - her mother has spent less time on the shores of Nerine. Where she goes, Starlin has never asked (but always wonders). Sometimes, the wayward thought that she might never come back tiptoes into her mind, but the dark-haired mare always banishes it with a shake of her head.
She does so now, the sea-stiff curtain of her dark hair brushing against her neck. Starlin opens her blue grey eyes to look down the cliffside at the sea. Should she go for a swim? Or race up and down the cliffs until she is too exhausted to move?
African lilly, allium, poppies, and bleeding hearts; they transform the grey coast with their bright splashes of color. This is Starlin's favorite season in Nerine.
While the coastal realm is beautiful year round, this is the season that they had come to Nerine, and so it retains a nostalgic place in her heart. No longer the little filly that had arrived at her mother's side, Starlin has become a woman grown.
Inheriting her mother's slender build and her father's height, hard work and exercise have put impressive muscle beneath her sleek grullo hide. While she is still untested in true battle, she has shallow scars from her practice battles, spars against whatever foes her mother could dream up.
There have been less of those lately.
Without Nayl - without Isobell - her mother has spent less time on the shores of Nerine. Where she goes, Starlin has never asked (but always wonders). Sometimes, the wayward thought that she might never come back tiptoes into her mind, but the dark-haired mare always banishes it with a shake of her head.
She does so now, the sea-stiff curtain of her dark hair brushing against her neck. Starlin opens her blue grey eyes to look down the cliffside at the sea. Should she go for a swim? Or race up and down the cliffs until she is too exhausted to move?