04-24-2015, 03:57 PM
wolves in our own skin, we're savages.
Scorch acts like she's never experienced a foal before, not even a little, fluffy black one who is possibly the least imposing equine in all Beqanna. Why she felt the need to step protectively over the newborn Da might understand if she bothered to think at any length about it, but she can't. She has more important things to think about, like the rarest plants and stuff to waste headpsace on an arrogant and uppity mare. At any rate, she is amused, her head tilting to the side and her bottlebrush tail flicking against her sides.
"What's a princess?" she asks innocently, stepping closer and closer. "I'm Da, my sister is Raeanne. Although I can't remember what my ma is called. She's around somewhere, though. They brought me here."
Ea says she can stay and Da would laugh but... reasons. It was awfully kind of the Princess to give the little black filly permission to stand wherever she would like on our Mother's green earth. She longs to say something to that effect, but she'd much rather stay and play with her. She's not an adult, anyway, so she's not really mean yet.
Ea, the organised, the calculated, and Da the wild-thing. Her chaotic web is far too tangled to tell whether there is a grand design, now or ever.
And then a stallion appears, just as protective as the mother, and the small black filly rolls her eyes. Really. She is SMALL. And FLUFFY. A mildly irritated beaver would probably be more of a threat than she is.
"No, you can't help me." She says, her large brown eyes looking up at him quizzically. "Can I help you?"
DÁ
"What's a princess?" she asks innocently, stepping closer and closer. "I'm Da, my sister is Raeanne. Although I can't remember what my ma is called. She's around somewhere, though. They brought me here."
Ea says she can stay and Da would laugh but... reasons. It was awfully kind of the Princess to give the little black filly permission to stand wherever she would like on our Mother's green earth. She longs to say something to that effect, but she'd much rather stay and play with her. She's not an adult, anyway, so she's not really mean yet.
Ea, the organised, the calculated, and Da the wild-thing. Her chaotic web is far too tangled to tell whether there is a grand design, now or ever.
And then a stallion appears, just as protective as the mother, and the small black filly rolls her eyes. Really. She is SMALL. And FLUFFY. A mildly irritated beaver would probably be more of a threat than she is.
"No, you can't help me." She says, her large brown eyes looking up at him quizzically. "Can I help you?"