12-29-2018, 07:52 PM
The soft bits of light that float overhead are reflected in the water, and if Kypria tilts her head and squints just right, they are almost like the glowing tides of Ischia. The color is wrong, of course, but the young mare has always had a vivid imagination. For a long while she watches them and then with a huff, breaks the reflection into a countless brightly lit drops with one pawing hoof.
Turning away from the water, the young mare strides down the beach. Her pace is quick and movement precise; Kypria had lost her childishly boisterous gait sometime after their arrival on the Island Resort. Though she is - literally - surrounded by family every day, the lavender haired horse too often feels alone.
She wonders sometimes if she is distinguishable from the rest of the purple hoard that occupy this tropical paradise. Other times she ponders whether such anonymity would be a good thing or a bad thing. The translucent fins that grow from her shoulders hang loosely by her sides, their pastel rainbow sheen turned a simpler silver by the moon and magic light. There are a great many horses gathered for the party, but Kypria has not yet approached anyone.
Somewhere in the brighter forest are her mother and elder sister, but the idea of facing a dozen strangers in order to find them keeps her at the edges of the party. Kypria had experienced a distressing number of rude encounters of the past few weeks - mostly from stallions - and is running rather low on social energy for the time being.
Turning away from the water, the young mare strides down the beach. Her pace is quick and movement precise; Kypria had lost her childishly boisterous gait sometime after their arrival on the Island Resort. Though she is - literally - surrounded by family every day, the lavender haired horse too often feels alone.
She wonders sometimes if she is distinguishable from the rest of the purple hoard that occupy this tropical paradise. Other times she ponders whether such anonymity would be a good thing or a bad thing. The translucent fins that grow from her shoulders hang loosely by her sides, their pastel rainbow sheen turned a simpler silver by the moon and magic light. There are a great many horses gathered for the party, but Kypria has not yet approached anyone.
Somewhere in the brighter forest are her mother and elder sister, but the idea of facing a dozen strangers in order to find them keeps her at the edges of the party. Kypria had experienced a distressing number of rude encounters of the past few weeks - mostly from stallions - and is running rather low on social energy for the time being.