and we are unlovable
He knows this simply from the request alone - the Deserts have not exist under that name or in such a form, for a very long time. Not since the Reckoning (which he had thankfully missed out upon by travelling elsewhere); and even more recently with the rise of Pangea, Beqanna was not the same as when he came back that first time.
Someone would have told her. Someone should tell her.
But the children do not know, nor does the painted stallion, and the other mare may not be old enough - so it comes down to him, a son of the Jungle with the marks of winter upon him. But it is in fact convenient to do so, even if he would have told this story anyway had he been asked. After all, he was sent out to this world to help others. Starting with the palomino girl, it seemed he was running down a cascade finding yet another lost soul here.
He shakes his head at her with a definitive look - almost as definitive as his voice in the first sentence. ”The Dewdrop Deserts are no more. Neither are the Jungle, the Tundra, or the Falls… not for two decades or perhaps even longer.” He trails, knowing there had been more lands but honestly, he had not paid attention back then (he wasn’t much older than the two foals are now) and had all but forgotten most of it. He glances at the mare. ”Fairies didn’t agree with the excessive use of magic, from what I heard. But Carnage brought back Pangea: nowadays, Beqanna has four kingdoms - Loess, Tephra, Nerine and Pangea - each with two territories or herdlands as we speak. If you’re looking to survive the winter with that coat of yours, you may need to go west. The islands may have a climate to your liking; the beaches aren’t as humid as the Jungle was.” It’s as brief a summary as he can give without telling her about the Plague that came with Pangea, and the years it took the Beqannians to find a cure; the story would be too long, and all the while, they’d stand here freezing in the cold. Freezing while the palomino foal he’d found on Icicle Isle, was slowly starving if he couldn’t find her enough to eat for the rest of winter.
Though perhaps one of these horses knew of a way, he wasn’t about to ask straight aw -
The young girl near to him squeals, and an apple flings itself from the shadows towards the dark and lost mare. ”Hey!” He flicks an ear back as he looks at the little culprit - she was guarded by shadow creatures when he found her, if her squeal alone hadn’t been enough evidence. He continues in a softer tone, explaining. ”A little nicer to the lost lady, will you? She hasn’t harmed you.”
Not (even) him, either, which lately seems a miracle; nor anyone really. Sure, she comes off pretty regal and surprisingly
and I don’t want you to think that I care
I never would, I never could again
Merewen So, last time I posted after Kradle but the order is messed up anyway, so I’m taking a wild guess and say it’s your turn, then Anatomy then Beryl.