11-01-2019, 07:37 PM
Coming back to Taiga had taken less time than she’d thought, bourne as she was on the snow-heralding wind.
Here in the lowlands or Beqanna, the snow is not so deep as on the Mountain, and beneath the redwood canopy there is barely any at all. Still, it is chilly, and the dun mare pulls her golden wings more tightly to her well furred sides as she makes her way along the open beach where she had landed. The tight forest of her realm is not conducive to easy landing, and the few open meadows are likely to hold other horses on this bright afternoon. The idea of interacting with others causes a hollow ache in the black emptiness of her stomach, and a walk along the empty beach had seemed far preferable regardless of the weather.
Yet there is a voice ahead, one that calls again and again. Lepis considers sidestepping toward the woods, avoiding the pale figure that shouts her eldest son’s name. She is would have, had the other not turned her head and Lepis not seen the shimmer of a finned mane that she had seen not terribly long ago.
The diplomat from Ischia, but calling out specifically for her son. The Comtesse knows that Pteron has visited the tropical island no few times, yet he had never mentioned meeting anyone - she had assumed he’d simply lounged in the paradise that was temperate Ischia.
“Aquaria,” Lepis says as she draws near. There is nothing behind her grey blue eyes, yet her navy mouth pulls up into a friendly smile, and the lines around her eyes deepen in pleasure. “I’m afraid my son left for Loess this morning; he said something about hot springs, I think.”
The way she had called for him indicated familiarity, a woman visiting a friend rather than a diplomat come to a foreign land. Lepis’ observations of the pale nereid at their meeting had been limited, now she acknowledges that the mare is quite lovely; perhaps she has caught Pteron’s eye as something more than a friend.
A day ago, the thought might have brought a smile and a vague thought of grandchildren and political alliances. Today, she thinks of another pretty mare, and does her best not to frown - or to cry. Fortunately for Aquaria, Lepis’ best is a dozen years of honed practice, and her friendly smile never falters.
“I take it you two know each other?” She asks curiously, finding that distracting herself is far preferable than dwelling within her own thoughts.
@[Aquaria]
Here in the lowlands or Beqanna, the snow is not so deep as on the Mountain, and beneath the redwood canopy there is barely any at all. Still, it is chilly, and the dun mare pulls her golden wings more tightly to her well furred sides as she makes her way along the open beach where she had landed. The tight forest of her realm is not conducive to easy landing, and the few open meadows are likely to hold other horses on this bright afternoon. The idea of interacting with others causes a hollow ache in the black emptiness of her stomach, and a walk along the empty beach had seemed far preferable regardless of the weather.
Yet there is a voice ahead, one that calls again and again. Lepis considers sidestepping toward the woods, avoiding the pale figure that shouts her eldest son’s name. She is would have, had the other not turned her head and Lepis not seen the shimmer of a finned mane that she had seen not terribly long ago.
The diplomat from Ischia, but calling out specifically for her son. The Comtesse knows that Pteron has visited the tropical island no few times, yet he had never mentioned meeting anyone - she had assumed he’d simply lounged in the paradise that was temperate Ischia.
“Aquaria,” Lepis says as she draws near. There is nothing behind her grey blue eyes, yet her navy mouth pulls up into a friendly smile, and the lines around her eyes deepen in pleasure. “I’m afraid my son left for Loess this morning; he said something about hot springs, I think.”
The way she had called for him indicated familiarity, a woman visiting a friend rather than a diplomat come to a foreign land. Lepis’ observations of the pale nereid at their meeting had been limited, now she acknowledges that the mare is quite lovely; perhaps she has caught Pteron’s eye as something more than a friend.
A day ago, the thought might have brought a smile and a vague thought of grandchildren and political alliances. Today, she thinks of another pretty mare, and does her best not to frown - or to cry. Fortunately for Aquaria, Lepis’ best is a dozen years of honed practice, and her friendly smile never falters.
“I take it you two know each other?” She asks curiously, finding that distracting herself is far preferable than dwelling within her own thoughts.
@[Aquaria]
