tossed around like seaglass [nyxia]

[Larisa]

tossed around like seaglass
and you rounded out my edges

She is young but she is well-trained; her parents are always composed and polite (in young Larisa's eyes, at least) and thus far they have taught the painted little lady the most impeccable of manners. If one were to meet her, they would find her as lady-like as the princesses of old. Of course, they don't seem to make princesses like that anymore, but Larisa ("Risa," she'll insist one she considers you a friend, for Larisa is a mouthful that can be confusing and she does not like for others to be confused by her; she is simple, really) would fit the bill if her parents were royalty.

"Mama," she had begged just that morning, "may I please go visit the Playground?" It hadn't taken her mother much to consent to the few hours she was willing to leave her side, and here she was, standing at the edge of the Playground without a single idea of what to do. She is doe-eyed and frightened, but she will not turn tail and return to her dam's side; she is determined to make a friend before Oksana and Makai return to bring her home once the sunlight begins to fade. 

She begins to wander aimlessly, just to get away from the outskirts of the Playground. It only makes sense that the other foals (and yearlings, she tells herself, because they are still young enough to play here as well) would be further inside the area, as opposed to standing nervously along the border like she was. She's safe here, she knows, but she has never been away from her Mama and Papa for any length of time and that in itself makes her nervous. She is not afraid of bullies--she knows she can stand up to them. She cannot explain her nerves but she fights them every step of the way.

The first other foal that she sees is much bigger than her (not very likely a foal, she's probably at least a year older than Larisa) and her coat is a lovely, eye-catching shade of lavender. Larisa is loudly colored as well, sabino on bay, but it is nothing like this pretty girl; she is drawn to the other's color like a moth to a flame. "Excuse me," she says once she is close enough, hoping that she is not bothering the other. "I just wanted to tell you that I find your coat a very lovely color." She swallows hard; this older girl is going to think her strange. "My name is Larisa. Perhaps we could be friends?"

Larisa
makai x oksana