It is such a simple thing to her that it seems a silly thing to ask.
How is she doing that?
She rolls her shoulders and the leaves rustle again.
She turns her head to touch her own shoulder which is not flesh or hair but leaves. Autumn leaves. They are dry and crack if she is not careful. So, her touch is ginger, cautious. She has to be careful not to crush them, has to be careful not to snap the branches that make up her mane and tail. She has to be so careful, which is a challenge for a girl who is not the careful sort.
“Feel,” she says and moves a little closer, turning to expose the leaves on her shoulder. “My dad made me out of leaves.” She has no reason to trust that her new friend will not try to take a bite out of her, but it is a risk she’s willing to take.
She wonders what it would be like to have a thousand glowing friends turn up one night and never leave. She wonders how she can get her own cloud of fireflies but she doesn’t ask what special thing the white filly did to encourage them. She just grins that same beaming grin and nods her understanding.
Finally the winged filly offers her name, something Holocene had forgotten to do. Although, even if she had remembered, her name likely would not have seemed all that important. But she grins, happy to have her friend’s name just the same. “Okay, Ellie!” she says, though she doesn’t know what Elegance means or why it does not suit her friend all that well. “My dad calls me Holocene! But you can call me whatever you want! Holly? Ceney? I’ll answer to anything, I don’t mind.”
@[Elegance]