[open] sweet little unforgettable thing; laura pony

[Honybee]

Her mama used to call her too sweet to make it in this world. Honybee didn’t think she was inherently sweet. She thought she was good at appearing sweet because, most of the time, it meant she got her way. Her almost two years of life haven’t given her much in the way of adversity but it lent her all the inflated confidence of youth. Whether luck or some benevolent god’s influence was involved, so far nothing had happened to send her tumbling.   The golden filly wants to see all of Beqanna, even the parts that make a delicious shiver of terror go up her spine. Danger is an abstract concept, something that only adds spice to life but doesn’t leave real scars. As she makes her way through the darkness with a bounding canter, she laments the loss of the light that would enhance the subtle curves and colors of her muscled form. Her brown eyes fight to make sense of the shadows she encounters but, in the end, she relies on her hearing to navigate her way towards the sound of rushing water.   The river is sparsley inhabited, a soft and lush place with at least one tree that would provide shade. If it were needed. She notes with growing discontent the array of colors and wings and morphs that the creatures around her possess.   It isn’t fair, really she thinks with a petulant look on her fine features. Everyone else has powers or pretty things and I’m plain and boring.   (She doesn’t truly think she’s boring though. She’s pretty, and to her, that’s practically fascinating.)  Soon enough, her usual good natured smile takes it place on her features. Her mind flits on to another subject as she absently grazes, the energy and curiosity reflected in her restless movements across the foliage.   Honybee sweet little unforgettable thing