seal my heart and break my pride; any

[Ketterley]

we are living in a material world,

and i am a material girl

♦ ♦ ♦

She has no reference for pain. She barely even has a reference for annoyance or discomfort. You might think this is a good thing for her, but it's backfired and grown sour. Far from being happy and cheerful as such a life should make her, Ketterley tends to inflate every slight, and overvalue every minor inconvenience.

She could not have survived what Munroe has been through. Or if she had, she'd have been shattered by it.

But she has time to learn. She is still so young. She is a pretty young thing, all buckskin like her mother, a sweet sunrise of color. She is a small thing, recently born, but she moves across the sands with an undeniable grace. Her expression is sweet, her face kind, but her heart already hardened. Her precious face has a thin blaze down the middle, and her left hindleg a sock.

She is wandering alone when she sees the boy. She is not often very bold, and stays close to her mother, but today she's feeling a little more adventurous. She spies him as he approaches the oasis pool and bends to drink, and she watches him as he watches his reflection in the ripples. Being from Beqanna, Ketterley is no stranger to horses with strange colors. It is as natural to her to see the unnatural as anything can possibly be. But it seems strange to this horse, and his coloring seems so garish, that Ketterley just can’t help going over to investigate.

She approaches easily, not bothering to announce herself. He would either hear her as her hooves delicately crunched the oasis grass, or he wouldn't, and he'd be startled to hear her voice next to him. To say that she doesn't care which it is would be an understatement.

She walks up beside him, peering at him in the water. "You look as though you've seen a ghost." she says, but there is no genuine caring in her voice – her tone is more a mother criticizing a daughter who dares frown in the presence of a prince they're trying to impress. It's a pretty voice, sweet and lovely, but there's no true heart behind the words. "That's not a very good look for you." she warns with mock sincerity, as earnest as Regina George – which is to say, very earnest, and also very unmoved by the possibility that her opinion might be unwelcome or unwanted.

And then she's silent.

Ketterley

perfect little princess of hurricane and pevensie