I don't play by the rules

R I K Y N & D U I R Though the call of my daughter’s joy at the sight of me does tug on the tender parts of my heart, there is something about my anger that is unstoppable, once it’s rolling. Drifting by her with what is legitimate lightning speed in my mind’s eye, the terror of my companion as he turns tail and runs from me is not enough to distract me from whom the deer bolts behind. Stopping in a sudden flurry of sand and with a loud snort of displeasured disbelief, my golden eyes fall on Ki’irha. Righting myself to all fours, I stare at the woman who won’t forgive me (not like I’ve apologized), and feel my anger ice itself over. It’s not something I know how to deal with, this bitter resentment that makes the relationship between myself and the starry mare so fragile, or the fact that, beneath that veneer of stone and ice, a heat often lingered. An ear falls back, while the other holds focus on her, and my gilded gaze sweeps across the curves of her body, and the beauty of her starry pelt. Already in trouble with Glacia, however, I decide that it’s probably best to not fraternize with so tempting a subject. With a curt bob of my muzzle and an equally curt remark, I turn to leave, touching Gwyn gently as I pass her on my way to the jungle. "Thanks," I tell the star-glazed warrior, my eyes lingering on her for perhaps a second too long, "come on, Gwyn." Duir, peeking out from behind Ki’irha’s shoulder, tentatively follows after, bleating his own short farewell to the northern mare before following Gwyn and I into the jungle. this is not destruction this is your birth —

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GWYN uh-oh, running out of breath, but I oh, I, I got stamina Her frown is deep and sorrowful as she watches her father surge passed her, but that frown becomes an inquisitive expression when he suddenly stops. Wondering what all that is about, having never seen him so rapidly deflated before (except, perhaps, when he was quietly arguing with her mom), the girl watches with a vast wealth of interest, her ears perked, and her pale eyes searching both adults for hints as to why her father was being so weird. She doesn’t forget being blown off, however, and after the short interaction between pretty Ki’irha and her sire, she steps away from his touch on her shoulder, giving him a “how does that feel” glare as she does so. “What was all that about?” she asks as she keeps pace with her father’s long strides at a bouncy, childish trot, gesturing back towards the mare on the beach with her muzzle as they enter the dark jungle together, “did you know that lady?”

Image by Jody Roberts@Flickr