Iska flicks her ears in annoyance, eyeing her brother askance as he moves clumsily, nose lifting to poke at the shadows ringing her ears. The filly of course has no clue what he is reaching for, entirely unaware of the dark halo circling her head. So she is annoyed, reaching out to nip at his cheek in return. But when mama moves and the man she had been blocking them from seeing steps forward, she is immediately intrigued.
She frowns as she peers up at him, happily ignoring Blackwell for the moment. The way mama doesn’t seem to mind him, the familiar way he greets them, Iska knows he must be someone important to them. Their father, though she doesn’t quite yet have the concept of father settled in her mind. But whatever the case, she likes him almost as much as she likes mama.
Unlike her twin, Iska remains, brown gaze shifting curiously between the two adults when Cassian swings around to face Beryl. Though the words are still a bit muddled and jumbled, she listens with great curiosity, trying very hard to piece together their meaning. It’s quite confusing to her young mind, but she does manage to piece together that they seem to be confused too. Confused about whether he should stay.
Iska does not like this. Not at all. Stomping one small hoof a bit huffily (though to an onlooker, it must look far more like she’s about to topple over), she inches close to the one-who-would-be-father and bites his shoulder toothlessly. As though that would be sufficient to make him stay.
--
Cassian, momentarily bemused by the way Blackwell is gumming at his knee, dips his head to brush his muzzle briefly over his shoulder. When he returns his gaze to Beryl, his warm eyes are immediately more somber, still uncertain if she would tell him to stay or go.
It isn’t until the words leave her lips - I want you to stay - that he breathes a sigh of relief. Almost instantly a smile begins to wreath his lips again, though it is stayed by the pain and uncertainty on her golden features. Though she tries to mask it in her shoulder, it is too visible in every line. He barely notices his son chewing on his tail or his daughter’s stamping hooves. At least, until she gums his shoulder.
Surprised he looks down at her stubborn features - something she had undoubtedly inherited from her mother - before dropping a gentle kiss onto her upturned nose. Beryl’s snarled statement draws his attention immediately back to her however.
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even think when he moves forward to draw her into an embrace. He presses her close, neck tucking over her as he presses his muzzle to her shoulder. “Of course you can,” he says into her skin. And he believes it whole-heartedly. He had never once doubted her capabilities. A faint smile begins to curve his lips once more as he continues, “And I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough that I rarely do things I don’t want to, so you can believe me when I say I want to stay.” He might have ended there, but he can’t seem to help the nearly inaudible emphasis that escapes. “Very much.”
@[Beryl]