12-29-2018, 08:47 AM
Eurwen
in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows
Eurwen’s home consists of ocean sprays and relative coolness; quite the opposite of Tephra. She’s never been to that kingdom, because fate would have it, that once again Tephra and Nerine are so distinctly separated by land masses and water alike, they’d never touch but in spirit.
She doesn’t know all the stories of the past - currently, her parents are worried about a plague, one the pink-spotted filly was simply born into. She doesn’t know any better than that her older sister has a terrible cough; sometimes the blue roan young mare just needs to pause, and that’s okay. Oisín is perhaps a little less patient, but all in all, the twins simply accept the world as it comes to them. There is wonder in everything to be found, wonder that the adults of current times might not see any more.
The mare she had approached now offers a warmer kind of smile than the distant, reckless one she had before, accompanied by a pleasant gleam in her eyes that strengthens little Eurwen in a way. There is genuine interest in this mare, no threatening stance at all like the monster she had somehow found the bravery to attack; the kind of warmth comes from the mahogany-coloured mare that strengthens Eurwen’s backbone just enough to stay and talk to her, instead of shying away again.
The mare’s voice is raspy, and warm at the same time. Sheen would surely laugh at the funny sound, but the spotted sister simply smiles and listens. Examines, and determines she can come to like it, because she likes the mare attached to this voice. Wishbone. A name she sadly hasn’t heard before, because there haven’t been much stories told of the past to her as of yet. But she recognizes everything else the bay mare says, and a brilliant smile lights up the little girl’s face.
She nearly jumps, excited now. (The word Khaleesi is a bit hard for her to speak or even think about often, but she knows it to be the important title that others sometimes still use. Old Nerinians, like Grammama.) ”Yes! I can help!” she almost leaves right away, but turns back a bit shyly as the mare asks her name. Oops. Sheepishly, she adds (much more meekly once again), her name. ”Ay-oh-rwen. But Sheen calls me Wenny. Uhm,” that’s perhaps not a name she likes for the new mare to call her. ”Wen is good, if you need to.” she tilts her head, looks at the mare. Wishbone... perhaps she’d listen to Wish, but Bone sounds weird. That’s no good name. Oh! Yes! Almost forgotten. ”We can go find Mama now. I think she’s...” frowning, the girl looks around and to the north (which is most of the kingdom). ”I don’t know. Maybe she’s walking.” Mama might not be in one place, she thinks. Sometimes she rests but, the dark-spotted mare has more things to concern her than her daughter does. She giggles suddenly when another thought surfaces. ”Or with Papa. But then we must swim the cold waters.” Darn, she wishes Sheen or ‘Seis was here to tell her where Mama was today. She wouldn’t be having an important meeting with someone would she?
She doesn’t know all the stories of the past - currently, her parents are worried about a plague, one the pink-spotted filly was simply born into. She doesn’t know any better than that her older sister has a terrible cough; sometimes the blue roan young mare just needs to pause, and that’s okay. Oisín is perhaps a little less patient, but all in all, the twins simply accept the world as it comes to them. There is wonder in everything to be found, wonder that the adults of current times might not see any more.
The mare she had approached now offers a warmer kind of smile than the distant, reckless one she had before, accompanied by a pleasant gleam in her eyes that strengthens little Eurwen in a way. There is genuine interest in this mare, no threatening stance at all like the monster she had somehow found the bravery to attack; the kind of warmth comes from the mahogany-coloured mare that strengthens Eurwen’s backbone just enough to stay and talk to her, instead of shying away again.
The mare’s voice is raspy, and warm at the same time. Sheen would surely laugh at the funny sound, but the spotted sister simply smiles and listens. Examines, and determines she can come to like it, because she likes the mare attached to this voice. Wishbone. A name she sadly hasn’t heard before, because there haven’t been much stories told of the past to her as of yet. But she recognizes everything else the bay mare says, and a brilliant smile lights up the little girl’s face.
She nearly jumps, excited now. (The word Khaleesi is a bit hard for her to speak or even think about often, but she knows it to be the important title that others sometimes still use. Old Nerinians, like Grammama.) ”Yes! I can help!” she almost leaves right away, but turns back a bit shyly as the mare asks her name. Oops. Sheepishly, she adds (much more meekly once again), her name. ”Ay-oh-rwen. But Sheen calls me Wenny. Uhm,” that’s perhaps not a name she likes for the new mare to call her. ”Wen is good, if you need to.” she tilts her head, looks at the mare. Wishbone... perhaps she’d listen to Wish, but Bone sounds weird. That’s no good name. Oh! Yes! Almost forgotten. ”We can go find Mama now. I think she’s...” frowning, the girl looks around and to the north (which is most of the kingdom). ”I don’t know. Maybe she’s walking.” Mama might not be in one place, she thinks. Sometimes she rests but, the dark-spotted mare has more things to concern her than her daughter does. She giggles suddenly when another thought surfaces. ”Or with Papa. But then we must swim the cold waters.” Darn, she wishes Sheen or ‘Seis was here to tell her where Mama was today. She wouldn’t be having an important meeting with someone would she?
lies the seed that with the sun's love
in the spring becomes the rose
in the spring becomes the rose
@[Wishbone]