11-15-2020, 10:06 PM
no wind blows in favor of a ship with no direction
Today, she has done the very thing her mother had told her not to do. Today, she tossed off the collar of control that her mother had placed on her at birth. Today, she lied to her dear twin brother. Today, she took the first steps towards becoming who she was meant to be and not who her mother insisted she be. It was not easy to give them the slip. In a family of telepaths, there is nothing that goes unnoticed, least of all thoughts of disobedience. Wayfair hated the thought of lying and hurting the only ones she has ever loved.
She hated the thought of wasting her life even more.
The spring calls to her in a way she has not experienced before. All around her the world is awakening, and to her young eyes it is like magic. The trees have cloaked themselves in their finest greenery, and the flowers have exploded in their brightest colors. She refuses to focus her eyes on any one thing, instead letting them drift and wander, refusing in her own way to miss anything. A warm wind blows at the soft white down that is her foal coat and she leans into it briefly before calling it back to her and forcing it to enclose her in its warmth. It does not resist, but does her bidding happily. Knowing that her mother has likely already started after her she does not linger in that spot for too long and bids the warm wind goodbye and continues on her explorations.
She finally slows as she reaches the river. The current is strong due to the melting of the snow and ice further north, and despite being very young, she isn’t stupid. She has a healthy appreciation for the power the river exerts and so she maintains a safe distance. Something distracts her from the rapids though, something that draws all of her attention. It is a colt, older than her but a colt all the same. The wings on his back make for an impressive picture, though he seems to lack the knowledge of how to use them. Each time he takes to the sky she holds her breath. She can hear his frustrated thoughts, and she finds her heart aching for him. Though she does not possess flight, she knows what it feels like to be so full of potential but unable to use it. The next time he leaps into the air she concentrates, concentrates so hard that a sweat breaks on her slender neck and her muscles tremble from the effort of it. As his wings spread she clenches her teeth, blowing air slowly out of her nostrils and aiming for the space beneath him. She hopes to create a thermal, a rising of hot air that will push him upwards with minimal effort on his part. A part of her wants to speak to him and encourage him, but she also does not want to break their collective concentration. So for now she remains quiet other than the small puffs of air that leave her quivering nostrils.
WAYFAIR&GANGPLANK
@[CROWNS]