The colt seems to see something funny about me, which admittedly may be a first. Lots of kids were always scared of my rather thick draft built and color-changing eyes. Add the occasional maniacal grin and voilá, pointy teeth do the rest. The water-winged boy is different though, and I like that about him. Bold but not too touchy. When he’s done mimicking however, he throws out a name I do not recognize. So, I slowly shake my head. ”Can’t say that I remember the name. What’s he look like?” And, perhaps, the rest of his family - fairies know I haven’t kept track of some of my children, and especially not their mates and offspring. It is possible than one has inherited icy scales - or, just as likely not. I know most of my kids were roan and carried some gold, but whatever comes after I cannot possibly know.
Sometimes I wish I could read minds - in this instance, when Poppy’s head tosses, I would have enjoyed the bay woman’s answer, and probably accepted it as a good reason. Alas, no such tricks for me, so when she tosses her head I find no answer, only defiance. She comes close to tell me what I already know - lightning is with her, and the spark on her face only amplifies her words. A small zapping sensation reaches my ears, the only un-scaled part of my head, but my eyes have a green spark on them when she retreats with a mischievous grin of her own. ”Show-off,” I tell her but it is most likely lost in the thunderclap that follows. As a result, the ground beneath me doesn’t scorch, because I unload the charge in a rather different way. I don’t really know how it works, how for a moment lightning existed between us - but I’m glad for it anyway, seeing as I’m not ran through with the stuff but rather it seems to pass around me*.
A low chuckle follows. ”Don’t get boring. We’ve been through this before.” I tssk, then look at the boy just to check if he isn’t harmed by our decharging. Her question grows more serious however, and I suppose it’s time to make a stand. Trouble is, none of the so-called leaders or council members have followed me here. Which means they don’t get a say, I suppose. ”Depends. If you grow boring and plan on screeching only, I’d rather you bothered your adoptive mom with it than me.” I let my shoulders roll a little - it really isn’t much of a bother, just inconvenient if she turns out to be a disappointment rather than an investment. Time will tell, and I won’t claim to be good at predictions - when all I’ve tried to be is unpredictable.
they say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good?