((OOC: I apologise for not having a headshot, I'll try to make a temporary one tomorrow. OOC2: I apologise for the mammoth entry. I just got going, and...well. >_<))
Warmth lay panting near the hollow logs; she hadn't meant to dance, not at all. For one thing, she was entirely too pudgy for it, and it left her out of breath. For another, she was apt to confuse her left and right feet, had poor timing, and for a fourth, her thick heavy fur meant she was soon overheated. But the hollow logs reverberated with their ponderous echoing
boom boom boom that she could feel in her very bones, and the smaller log-drums had a higher pitched
ratta-tatta-tat that sounded so much like laughter, and was nearly as infectious. The singing Sams just tied it all together in a simply lovely harmony! She'd found herself tapping a foot before she knew it, and then next she knew she was shuffle-hop-stepping. Granted, she'd be the last to call it any kind of proper dance, and she'd be the first to laugh at the picture she made, but still! It was fun, and lively, and got her blood pumping, and what of it? She'd quickly overheated and flopped to rest in a spot of shade, though, and let her ears and eyes wander while she got her breath back. At least, she thought with mirth,
Vibrance was in the same kettle of fish, as it were, though she dearly envied the fanning wings just now! She shot her a friendly glance.
It didn't take long for her to hear a commotion coming from a far corner of the clearing, where all the roly-poly Samanayr foals were.
What a delight! She thought; she wistfully watched them laughing and playing, and to her broody mind they all appeared cherubic, the sun shining fancifully off round flanks and wide eyes. If only she'd found the right stallion to start a song with! Perhaps then she would have a foal of her own!
The foal's conversation shook her out of her wishful thinking, and she groaned as she hauled her pudgy self to her feet. She'd come hoping to see a Misery; she was doing
research on them. She'd never actually
met one, but she'd been intrigued, having heard the stories about them, usually tales meant to frighten naughty foals into behaving, tales that focused on their blighted magic and their bloody heritage. Not that she'd responded as a normal foal, oh no: she was one of those precocious and tenacious types, obsessed with the word 'why?'. She'd tilted her head and asked, "
Why do they only have twisted magic? Are they all evil? Why are they evil? Do they - " until the mare in charge had shushed her and glared her into silence.
She'd quickly learned to keep her curiosity to herself, but it hadn't stopped her
trying to learn about them. She had too many
why's and
what-ifs to simply forget about it. Pity there didn't seem to be any present, though the company was certainly varied. She tried to look around as she made her way over to the foals, half-listening to the escalating argument, though her sympathy was twigged when she heard the
blue filly raising her voice shrilly. Certainly, the tale sounded fantastic enough - a magic foal that was there, then suddenly not? It sounded like - like teleportation, or perhaps invisibility, and certainly that was the stuff of fairy tales!
But as she watched, eyes narrowed in thought, as the other foals taunted and threatened, the blue filly showed no signs of doubt. She stood firmly, and the sound of indignation in her voice was most definitely not feigned. She didn't shuffle her feet in the manner of one telling tales, nor did she flinch from meeting their eyes, nor embellish her tale. Whatever the situation, there was no doubt the
filly believed what she said! "Inteyresting. I do believe theyre's a mysteyry afoot!" she murmured, and felt a little thrill of excitement that only came when there was something new to learn, some rare bit of knowledge to nose out!
She winced at the filly's shouted words - the high, youthful pitch cut at her eardrums, unused as she was to being around foals.
Peyrhaps I am not so byroody after all, she thought with wry humour, looking with narrowed eyes after the foals running off to tell tales. Were they to be in the wrong, she was tempted to have them apologise to the blue filly. She did seem awfully sure of herself, and it was certainly true that foals of the Rainbow Hotsprings were expected to be paragons of good behaviour.
Payragon, now that's a fun word....
Still musing, she plodded towards the far corner - "Meyrcy, this fuyr is no boon on a wayrm spyring day", she complained with good humor, eyeing those with shorter, lighter coats with envy.
Now, Affinity, she thought with bemusement,
no long fuyr to speak of. But I yreally do wondeyr, that - is it armoyr? Scales? Jewels? Keyratin? Chitin? I wondeyr if it's uncomfoyrtable to sleep on? Does it gyrow continuously? Belatedly she realised she was staring, and hurriedly moved on. Surely her questions would only be thought nosy!
Ah, an outlet for her wandering mind! One of Gyre's mares,
Gem, was there. She took a moment to admire her shimmering coat. "Good day, Gem," she said warmly, "You look nice and cool! And wisely avoiding dancing! I ought to follow youyr example! But now I'm off to see what's got the foals all excited, something's caught theiyr inteyrest, it seems!" She kept chattering, as she made her way; the sun-warmed grass soothing her feet.
The blue filly was speaking again when she drew shoulder to shoulder with the others gathered round, ears perked in interest. She listened, and nodded. "It is ceyrtainly wiseyr to find pyroof of one's woyrds, than to simply call one a liayr," she remarked, nodding at
Shade's suggestion of small groups. "I, for one, shall be glad to go; peyrhaps I shall leayrn something new!" Her smile was a bit maniacal in her hunger for learning.
She shivered with delight as a breeze, oddly coming from a tree on the edge of the clearing, ruffled her thick fur and cooled her. She spared a glance at the tree - squinted,
Is that a spot of blue I see? But her attention was quickly distracted by
Memory, as she hesitantly approached. For a moment, Warmth felt instinct and upbringing, all the childhood tales as her mind screamed
Sa'krien!. She narrowed her eyes and lowered her ears flat against her skull, taking in the red eyes and talons and horns.
Luckily, her rational mind was stronger than her upbringing, and after a moment of unease and defensiveness - likely brought on by the nearness of the foals, and wasn't
that a sad thought! - she was able to realise that despite the distinctive traits, the newcomer was merely the offspring of a Sa'krien. For certain she didn't
move like a Sa'krien; far too hesitant and uncertain of her welcome, or one.
Peyrhaps she's misundeyrstood, as Miseyries ayre, she thought, and forced herself to shake off her discomfort and step forward. "Ah, I am Wayrmth," she introduced herself, keeping an eye on the others as much as on Memory, lest they drive the poor mare away prematurely. "I do not see why you could not," she said, cautiously.
))
Paean was within ten meters of the clearing when she saw that several of the dancers had wandered off. Worrying that she had truly arrived just in time to help clean up, she caught sight of a sam she thought she recognized and flew over a bit faster than was called for, spiky toes outstretched for a landing. Her hooves dug into the earth as she landed, and Paean sprayed some dirt around as she wrestled them free. Casually wiping her toes on the grass, she walked up to 
