Nerine is a name she does not know until it spoke, and even when it is: she does not immediately grasp the expanse and wholeness of it, the true borders of the territory and the history of it. Instead she peers and stares, looks out across the great grasses and the cliffs: to places where trees are full and thick… and to where flowers bloom around brackish springs and pools. It is far from the whole of it; but it’s enough to sate her curiosity of the word and border, for the now. Still pressed against the older mare she feels the breath and touch, the way her wispy forelock is scattered over her face and she focuses on the strange reality that she is now burdened by; the idea of time that suddenly occurs to her, and in such a way that she furrows her tiny brows and cinches her face into confusion and conflict. “Gone…” she murmurs.
“All gone. Pell, gone…” the phrasing of the name and the meaning of it hits her in a way she has never felt, and a deep sense of grief fills her; but she does not succumb so easily, she’s too young to fully feel this tragedy and a part of her still does not understand. “I see, shadow- dark. Roses, and I walk… hungry.” she begins to speak, trying to mimic words and trying to speak cohesively. “Carnage speak, I run, and dark- no one. Gone, empty. No moon, no sun- no… day?” the last word is a question, but, one posed less of her asking and more so trying to secure the word for ‘time’. “Long walk, alone, Dovev- see first. No hurt… Fairies… grrrr.” another growling, but this time she locks eyes with Heartfire.
Direct and tilting her head she continues on, trying to elaborate something. “Now Nerine, no Valley. No- ah, big? Small still. No talk.” she wobbles a leg, looking from herself to Heartfire and back- sticking her small head between her forelegs and scratching the Starfish against them. Yet it’s the small word, gentle talk- the interesting color and speckle of grey: all her attentions remain on and with the mare. Such it is that she inhales softly, making a strange childlike babbling sound before formulating new words and new things to speak on. “Carnage speak now, again. In… head. Grrrr, no like, stay out. Bring shadow, scary- no go back.” the idea of the beyond, of the place where time is absent: it frightens her, and so does Carnage.
Shivering she does not hide the glances around nor the stricken fearful look in her eyes. She mewls and had the not been so tall she might’ve shoved herself well beneath Heartfire if she thought it was safer; but she relents because her legs are long and spindly and she is far too tall for that. Out of words, out of things to question- she goes silent and reaches her nose up at Heartfire: touching the mare’s shoulder with the velveteen nose.