Tornados from a butterfly's wing
Amarine stood on the moor with her head stubbornly in the wind. There were too many horses coming in. Too many new faces, too many new feelings. Every day they got closer to the changing of leaders that brought the newcomers, Ama found it harder to avoid the masses.
It didn't help that her head ached most of the time these days. She slept whenever she could get away with it, for that was the only time she could escape the knocking in her head. That was what she was trying to do now. Doze in the wind, hoping for rest before she'd have to give in and find Nev or someone.
Her mouth twisted as a thread of feeling tugged at her mind. Someone was close enough to touch her, and it would do nothing to ease her headache if she was battling for her own emotions. Any hope of a nap was dashed when the ringing cry of someone's greeting broke through the wind and met her ears. A grumbling sigh puffed past her lips, but she shook herself and turned. She wasn't completely uncivilized.
Her short, slim legs carried her through heather and stone, while the threads of sensation fluttered against her. Excitement, mellow Joy, other, softer things. Ama grimaced, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she was feeling unpleasant things. Mostly she longed for her quiet den.
The gentle gleam of gold on the moor caught her eye, a mild surprise shaking her from her self suffering. Her pace picked up, and the gentle clopping of her hooves on rocky soil carried to the young stallion she paced towards. "Yanhua! That's you, isn't it?" She burred when she drew close enough to speak and be heard. Her haunting eyes fastening on his form, a vague smile on her lips. It was at least a year ago now that she had met the shaggy colt on the seashore, had played games of throwing and catching emotions.
Through the knife in her head, Ama searched for the feeling she wanted. Sorted through her catalogue of emotion until she landed on what she wanted. With a lifting of her eyes, the pony mare let the inner out.
A pool of warm, sincere Welcome rolled away from her. Equal parts Joy, Longing and Recognition. Words had never been a strong suite for her. They seemed clumsy things when one could cut to the heart of things with such ease.
...Amarine
@[Yanhua]