Pond
Pond is alone at the moment, walking silently through the Meadow with her eyes, gray and somewhat dulled by her heavy thoughts, downcast and her shadowy wings hugged close to her shoulders as if for protection. In truth, she doesn’t truly want to socialize or even be seen at the moment; ever since last spring she has avoided such situations. She feels stained by what had happened - by her encounter with Rajanish - even though it had been far beyond her control. She had been frail, weakened by the plague (and, unbeknownst to her, by the stallion’s disease acceleration magic) and unable to fight him off when he had singled her out.
It didn’t take long for the resultant colt, Pond’s very first, to affect the young mare just the same. The foal looked just like his father and bore the same magic, although Oaks’ acceleration was, and remains, uncontrollable. Even though the plague had been cured, Pond continued to ail weaken in her son’s presence. She has since taken to avoiding him when she can and she has maintained this practice for an entire year.
It weighed heavily on her heart, for she had always been coddled and cherished by her own parents (before the Reckoning had so unkindly separated her from her family). Shouldn’t every child be afforded the same sort of affection and care? But Oaks hurt her in so many ways that she could not bear to be near him for any longer than was necessary. Luckily, as he has now been weaned for some time and has grown capable of greater independence than in his foalhood, leaving him behind does not make her feel quite as wretched.
And, perhaps, venturing to the Meadow is not as bad an idea as it had seemed in the back of her mind when she realized her feet were guiding her this way. She is still wary and doubtful that this excursion will bring her any joy or distraction, but that does not seem to be the case for all those who wander the grasses. Nearby where Pond had paused for a drink from a quiet trickle of water fed by the thawing snows, a faint but light (at least to her ears) laugh catches her attention through the general murmuring around her. Finally, she looks upward to find the source of the sound and settles upon the gold-coated mare not far off.
Despite her recent aversion to conversation, she urges herself to step forward. Pond had never really been one to back down from challenges like these, even if it is something rather self-inflicted. The mind is a terrible weapon, especially when wielded against oneself, but she knows that she is strong enough to overcome her self-inflicted contrition. She had to, after all, if she wanted to take on the next adventure (for after every night there is a dawn) that would eventually find her.
“It’s nice to hear that someone still laughs around here,” she says to Elaina in a somewhat somber tone. The smile that touches her mouth is still a bit sad but she does her best not to be the rain cloud in a sunny sky. She is trying to escape this sodden feeling, after all. The wispy black wings she carries shift a little as she tucks her chin somewhat apologetically. “Forgive me if I’m intruding… Are you new to these parts, if I may ask?” In her recent experience, after all, only children, newcomers, and lovebirds seemed to have true cause to be mirthful lately.
It didn’t take long for the resultant colt, Pond’s very first, to affect the young mare just the same. The foal looked just like his father and bore the same magic, although Oaks’ acceleration was, and remains, uncontrollable. Even though the plague had been cured, Pond continued to ail weaken in her son’s presence. She has since taken to avoiding him when she can and she has maintained this practice for an entire year.
It weighed heavily on her heart, for she had always been coddled and cherished by her own parents (before the Reckoning had so unkindly separated her from her family). Shouldn’t every child be afforded the same sort of affection and care? But Oaks hurt her in so many ways that she could not bear to be near him for any longer than was necessary. Luckily, as he has now been weaned for some time and has grown capable of greater independence than in his foalhood, leaving him behind does not make her feel quite as wretched.
And, perhaps, venturing to the Meadow is not as bad an idea as it had seemed in the back of her mind when she realized her feet were guiding her this way. She is still wary and doubtful that this excursion will bring her any joy or distraction, but that does not seem to be the case for all those who wander the grasses. Nearby where Pond had paused for a drink from a quiet trickle of water fed by the thawing snows, a faint but light (at least to her ears) laugh catches her attention through the general murmuring around her. Finally, she looks upward to find the source of the sound and settles upon the gold-coated mare not far off.
Despite her recent aversion to conversation, she urges herself to step forward. Pond had never really been one to back down from challenges like these, even if it is something rather self-inflicted. The mind is a terrible weapon, especially when wielded against oneself, but she knows that she is strong enough to overcome her self-inflicted contrition. She had to, after all, if she wanted to take on the next adventure (for after every night there is a dawn) that would eventually find her.
“It’s nice to hear that someone still laughs around here,” she says to Elaina in a somewhat somber tone. The smile that touches her mouth is still a bit sad but she does her best not to be the rain cloud in a sunny sky. She is trying to escape this sodden feeling, after all. The wispy black wings she carries shift a little as she tucks her chin somewhat apologetically. “Forgive me if I’m intruding… Are you new to these parts, if I may ask?” In her recent experience, after all, only children, newcomers, and lovebirds seemed to have true cause to be mirthful lately.
@[Elaina] hope you don't mind my rambling and mild rustiness
