02-12-2019, 02:50 PM
Eurwen
the secret to walking on water is
knowing where the rocks lie
knowing where the rocks lie
She’s young still, but not so bold and daring as most of her age - never had been, but perhaps her life not being easy on her had also caused her to mature... prematurely. But the past is unchangeable, and there’s no way to know what she had been if events had been different. Such, in the end, is life.
And it’s not bad, per say. She could only grow. From her past experiences, but moreso from the present ones. Babysitting, talking to the residents of Nerine - asking their opinions, wondering what upsets them and what eases them, what makes one choose this kingdom over another. She’s curious enough, for things like that; just not very extrovert. She approaches softly and leaves just like that; it’s much the same in the meadow, where she ventured just to be away (but, that she also views as such a public place that it provides the comfort of normalcy, of simply grazing and of small talk, and then leaving). If she meets no-one new today, that’s fine, and if she gets to chat with someone who will distract her, then that too.
But she’s never careless and when a large, mature stallion (to her young self, he looks old but she wouldn’t actually say so - her sister might) approaches, she is wary. Perhaps it is in the way he adds the possesive word, ‘my little rose-thing’ isn’t something she takes all too well to.
Now, he could have just read her face when he says that she cannot escape her mind. But to know how far she’s come (or did he guess?) she isn’t quite sure what to think. His wording is... unique, that way.
She is quiet, when the deep dark of her eyes skid over him in an attempt to place him (she finds that she cannot - not without further conversing) - the only think dark about her appearance, and even that with a warmth to it. A small smile grazes him, before she answers. ”It’s not about escaping.” Escaping wouldn’t be possible, or she would not have had memories as soon as she crossed a border. (That’s a silly thought.) She wouldn’t even want to - her retreats are of self-exploration, about puzzling what has happened together - in a sense: to process, analyze, and then to find a goal, if she might be so lucky. She wouldn’t miss it for the world; but as a natural introvert, she needs some time to deal with it all.
Not unlike her older sister would sometimes need to stop playing to cough and catch her breath, she would think.
His word-choice still resonates inside her mind, until the question she wants to ask, pops up. ”Why would you say they’re bitter?”
Is he?
And it’s not bad, per say. She could only grow. From her past experiences, but moreso from the present ones. Babysitting, talking to the residents of Nerine - asking their opinions, wondering what upsets them and what eases them, what makes one choose this kingdom over another. She’s curious enough, for things like that; just not very extrovert. She approaches softly and leaves just like that; it’s much the same in the meadow, where she ventured just to be away (but, that she also views as such a public place that it provides the comfort of normalcy, of simply grazing and of small talk, and then leaving). If she meets no-one new today, that’s fine, and if she gets to chat with someone who will distract her, then that too.
But she’s never careless and when a large, mature stallion (to her young self, he looks old but she wouldn’t actually say so - her sister might) approaches, she is wary. Perhaps it is in the way he adds the possesive word, ‘my little rose-thing’ isn’t something she takes all too well to.
Now, he could have just read her face when he says that she cannot escape her mind. But to know how far she’s come (or did he guess?) she isn’t quite sure what to think. His wording is... unique, that way.
She is quiet, when the deep dark of her eyes skid over him in an attempt to place him (she finds that she cannot - not without further conversing) - the only think dark about her appearance, and even that with a warmth to it. A small smile grazes him, before she answers. ”It’s not about escaping.” Escaping wouldn’t be possible, or she would not have had memories as soon as she crossed a border. (That’s a silly thought.) She wouldn’t even want to - her retreats are of self-exploration, about puzzling what has happened together - in a sense: to process, analyze, and then to find a goal, if she might be so lucky. She wouldn’t miss it for the world; but as a natural introvert, she needs some time to deal with it all.
Not unlike her older sister would sometimes need to stop playing to cough and catch her breath, she would think.
His word-choice still resonates inside her mind, until the question she wants to ask, pops up. ”Why would you say they’re bitter?”
Is he?