Panic does not come easily to the pegasus - no, she is too labyrinthine to allow such erratic emotions to control her actions. Instead, she smoothes her initial discomfort into cautious curiosity. A creature such as this is sure to peak one’s interest, and it certainly is not the strangest thing to come from Beqanna.
So, she stands, stoic and patient - the shadows and silence stretching languidly between them.
Jude watches the movements of the little avian-hybrid, unable to tell what it is doing but still not quite frightened. She lifts her muzzle a few inches to breathe in its scent: a filly, covered in the stench of dried blood and afterbirth. Motherly concern floods the mare’s senses, but before she can form her emotion into thought, the child drops to the ground. Jude nearly lurches forward, fearing for the filly’s safety, but quickly realizes there is no harm done. It takes a moment but she thinks: Did that kid just . . . pass through branches?
Despite the sudden and strange fall, Jude does not move. The filly approaches, lanky and gauche, causing any semblance of unease to melt. In a bumbling, alien way, the child is almost sweet - feminine instincts swell with sudden force and then pop! they release what feels like poison (to Jude) into her veins.
When the avian girl reaches forward, Jude matches, bumping muzzles: soft baby flesh brushing clumsily against her own, a moment of understanding (mother to daughter).
Jude stays hushed, allowing the babe her infant curiosity: talons stretching and grasping followed by a gentle tap on her hoof. Strange, the incessant ripples of affection she feels - Jude has always been drawn to the exciting, and what is more thrilling than a midnight encounter with a lonesome baby?
Murrr. Moonlight gleams off the child’s eyes at it mutters gibberish: Mur-kaar-yee. Jude’s ears flutter back and forth, dropping her head to peer back at the child. She attempts to piece the noise together.
Murkaryee: what can that possibly mean? It sounds like no language she knows, and that’s when she realizes - the child’s name.
“Myrkari?” accent stumbling over the r’s, trying her best to follow the stuttering syllables of the child. “Is that your name, little one?”
@[Myrkari]