03-19-2016, 02:51 PM
A minority. Yes, Beqanna had more striking colored horses running around, but that was just it...they were horses. She...she is a half breed. Her silvery mane was thin and stuck up in a mohawk, her forelock was bright white and very fluffy in contrast to her thin mohawk. The dark stripes on her rump and back legs were indeed stiking, though others would probably notice her large rounded ears more so than her stripes. As a young filly she learned that there would always be those who would mock her for her looks and heritage, but she knew, there were also those who would stick by her no matter what she was. That was something that kept her happy, she knew not to fret, as her mother used to tell her,"Those who make fun of you are not worthy of being your friends, you will know who is a true friend and who isn't." Her mother, beloved striped mother, she was always so wise. She taught Pyrite well. For now she is a well rounded and quirky young lady. The autumn meadow was filled to the brim, for she knew ,of course, this was breeding season. Mares and stallions alike strut about the field hoping to woo one another. One couple in particular made her giggle softly to herself and she tried to mimic the mare's flirtations and batted her long white eyelashes over crystaline blue eyes, "Oh pick me pick me" she said quietly to herself as not to draw their attention and get shooed away from them, they probably wouldn't appreciate her poking fun at their sexual advances. She too knew that one day she would be flirting with a handsome male specimin, but alas that would probably not be for a while. She was definitely not ready for kids yet, too much for her to learn about the world still. She knew she would be a shoddy mother if she could not teach her children the truths and wonders of this world. For now she searches a home, maybe a friend. Before now, she really had no friends other than her mother. She hoped that wherever she ended up that that would change. It is hard not being at her mother's side anymore, alone in this vast world plagued by war. Slowly she makes her way through the flirtatious masses and finds herself at a small brook. She let her greying head down to sip at it's cool surface, her large dinner plates swiveled to and fro, listening for the hopeful sound of approching hoofsteps. She watched her own reflection as she lightly sipped away, maybe she was strange, but she was not going to let that stop her from living a good life. She may not look the same, but she sure as hell wouldn't let that make her feel down. This world was full of good souls. One would find her someday, and she hoped that someday would be today. |
