I never knew daylight could be so violent
One of the other mares laughs at the comment she had made, and an amused glanced in sent her way – that quickly turns into amazement when she watches a few inches of fire shoot from the mare’s nostrils. A look of gratitude from the shy chestnut mare and a genuine-sounding laugh from the odd-man out in their group serve as the other reactions to her snippy words.
She was expecting a fight, but she does not know whether she’s relieved or disappointed that it did not come. Her attention shifts as the butterflies emerge from the fire-mare’s back and flutter angrily about them all. The dusty-coloured mare jerks her head a little away from one, wary, before reminding herself that they are in all likelihood just ordinary butterflies, despite all the fire that the other mare has about her.
She doesn’t think enough to be embarrassed that she just flinched from a butterfly, but she’ll hope that no one else noticed it.
The others speak and it’s clear, for the moment, that there’s a line drawn – us vs him. She has, whether she wished to or not, sided herself strongly with the other mares. She had noted the look of gratitude from the shy-seeming chestnut mare as well, and if they were closer the Pegasus would have touched the mare’s shoulder gently in a gesture of kindness she would not have even understood as she made it. It would have been an instinct long-dead.
She certainly hadn’t spent years as a mountain lion giving gentle touches and appreciative glances anyone’s way.
The catty banter ceases when Brigade offers of his name, however, and those few words stall out any temporary sense of comradery or peace with these three strangers that have gathered seemingly against all their individual wills in the night. This mare’s gaze darkens and she seriously entertains the idea of just turning around and walking away to avoid the embarrassment of admitting she doesn’t even know her own name. She cannot join in this game of introductions, cannot accept this bridge of peace (however temporary) because her end will be found wanting.
A panic she hates starts to rise within her but she manages, for the moment, to deflect it. “A pleasure, Brigade.” She repeats his name instead of offering her own, the words touched with a teasing humour that had some bite, but not much.
Just like with the butterflies, she can only hope that none of them see her flinch.
VASTRA
kastiel x nazaire, wanderer |
@[brunhilde]
I'M SO SORRY I HELD THINGS UP FOREVER GUYS
