10-21-2019, 09:33 PM
No...
Not the other place, then. No, this is real life - had it not been real before? She remembers it like a dream, but the ache of burnt skin suggests otherwise, and, distracted, Popinjay curls her body, stretching a wriggling upper lip to graze the furthest forward of the wounds. Definitely real! She whips back around as the pale mare approaches, ears up and eyes bright. A grin spreads across dark lips
"Oh, I'm fine," she exclaims, rolling her head on limber neck and then closing the remaining space between them, "are you okay? You look confused."
Water droplets cling to her eyelashes and the whiskers around her muzzle, sparkling like diamonds in the high sun, and the grin grows mischievous. She can bear her own curiousity no longer and reaches out with quick teeth to nip at the translucent fins hanging down over the mare's neck in place of a mane.
"Are you a fish? Maybe that's why you're so confused. You should be more in the water. The fish I know don't do very well in the sun, even only half out. But I can help!" And, so saying, she paws once, begins to crow-hop and leap tight circles through the silvery, flowing, water of the river, crashing each foot down with a splash until both horses are fully soaked.
"You're welcome," she stops with a critical frown, "That won't help for very long though."
Then, good deed done, she shakes, wringing her entire body as a dog might, spreading a fine mist around her, shakes until the short hairs of her coat curl and the longer ones one her mane try to stand straight. She stops to drink, as if it has been days. Drinks so long that perhaps Aquaria will think she has been forgotten completely, but without pausing between the actions, Poppy lifts her muzzle from the water, cooler where it runs than the still pool she had lain in before, and lifts it up to brush against the fishmare's own, a soft breath escaping from flared nostrils.
"It's okay that you don't have a riddle. I'm tired of riddles, anyway."
@[Aquaria]
Not the other place, then. No, this is real life - had it not been real before? She remembers it like a dream, but the ache of burnt skin suggests otherwise, and, distracted, Popinjay curls her body, stretching a wriggling upper lip to graze the furthest forward of the wounds. Definitely real! She whips back around as the pale mare approaches, ears up and eyes bright. A grin spreads across dark lips
"Oh, I'm fine," she exclaims, rolling her head on limber neck and then closing the remaining space between them, "are you okay? You look confused."
Water droplets cling to her eyelashes and the whiskers around her muzzle, sparkling like diamonds in the high sun, and the grin grows mischievous. She can bear her own curiousity no longer and reaches out with quick teeth to nip at the translucent fins hanging down over the mare's neck in place of a mane.
"Are you a fish? Maybe that's why you're so confused. You should be more in the water. The fish I know don't do very well in the sun, even only half out. But I can help!" And, so saying, she paws once, begins to crow-hop and leap tight circles through the silvery, flowing, water of the river, crashing each foot down with a splash until both horses are fully soaked.
"You're welcome," she stops with a critical frown, "That won't help for very long though."
Then, good deed done, she shakes, wringing her entire body as a dog might, spreading a fine mist around her, shakes until the short hairs of her coat curl and the longer ones one her mane try to stand straight. She stops to drink, as if it has been days. Drinks so long that perhaps Aquaria will think she has been forgotten completely, but without pausing between the actions, Poppy lifts her muzzle from the water, cooler where it runs than the still pool she had lain in before, and lifts it up to brush against the fishmare's own, a soft breath escaping from flared nostrils.
"It's okay that you don't have a riddle. I'm tired of riddles, anyway."
@[Aquaria]
