You're a diamond, dear

Eira... To the curious filly’s astonishment, two tiny eyes appeared from their shroud of sweet white-down, and she immediately recoiled her chin a small distance, uncertain just what exactly she’d awakened. It didn’t look at all dangerous - yet, neither did the inconspicuous looking, screaming moss which smothered many a rock in this forest. With a good amount of caution, though always true to her calm, gentle nature, Eira watched the creature and stood as still as she could manage; silky threads of silver swaying on their own accord, as the light wind puffed along by. “What are you?” she thought, a thoughtful smile easing through the gaunt contours of her face. The little ball was rather cute, and the more she studied it, the less like a seed pod, she noticed it to be. Though the waterproofing oil in her feathers had been stripped clear and their length had been chewed into tatters, she lifted one blue arm and fanned the dulled primaries as best she could to shelter her unexpected friend. At that same moment, however, another just like it ambushed, lunging forward through the lightening drizzle and attaching to the little blue horse’s nose. Coal-tipped ears craned forward and her honest eyes crossed as she endeavoured to watch, but it was the fringe of her vision, and only the stroke of its batting paws betrayed its position. Every touch tickled terribly, like the brush of dried grass seed against the near-naked, grey skin. “No… Plea… Wait!” Eira’s thoughts begged suddenly, as her lungs gathered strength. But it was too late. Far beyond her capacity to stop it, an enormous sneeze erupted from the orphans dark-rimmed nostrils, spittle spraying far and wide. Horrified, she began to search frantically, dipping and tilting her skull awkwardly to find glimpse of the critter which had been. “Oh dear, oh dear,” she worried frantically, turning to check on the ball stuck in her mane; her wing had slipped and soft rain was beading again in its pale downy-fur. Quickly she realigned the umbrella and turned her upset gaze loose to find the second. "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
@Rift Presence