For the most part, Saint has no idea what is happening to her. She knows that her mother’s magic is powerful, and that it may do as it pleases; but she does not understand why her fur has disappeared and near impenetrable scales have appeared. On occasion, she whips her head around to brush her baby-smooth lips against her cool skin in awe, thinking she must be goddamn invincible. Her parents have imbued in her a confidence all children deserve, but perhaps Saint herself has nurtured that confidence into recklessness.
Tephra is a wonderful home, and the yearling can feel its magic as it strengthens her. She belongs there through and through; her blood runs as green as the jungle plants Leliana still heals. A wistful smile curls her lips as she travels further and further from the volcanic kingdom, wondering if today will be the day that her parents finally notice her wandering. A bit of naivety still toys with her as she exists beneath the guise of secrecy - it is far too easy to know a magician mother will know of her every move, but Saint does not think of that now (or ever). And perhaps Leliana allows her children such privacy.
Saint would shiver against the autumn breeze if her body did not run so naturally hot. She steps through the dying flowers, a weird vibration in her hooves (one that would tell her they are desperate to turn into claws if she knew anything about creature within her).
The brilliantly colored mare ahead of her is the last thing she expects to run into. Not that there is anything particularly terrible about Rebelle, just that the little sleuth has not made it her goal to meet others. She mostly wants to explore and observe when she wanders Beqanna, and the occasional questioning or small talk has become unwelcome; still, it will be rude of her to not address someone when they have seen each other, so she offers the mare a nod of her head and a murmured, “How are you?”
—Saint—
into the fray
@[Rebelle]