r e c k i t t
crash through the surface
where they can't hurt us
where they can't hurt us
S
o easily had her manners gone forgotten, slipped away from her as she stood there perplexed with naming her own thoughts, a slight blush rises to her cheeks; staining them with a muted flush. Kitt turns her head away, the curtain of her mane helping to alleviate her own embarrassment from what she would consider, a transgression. This world had her all mixed up- she wasn’t herself. The shame of almost forgetting an introduction was minor to most, and to be truthful, it was mild in comparison to the way she stumbled over her own hooves, she sighs, thankful this day was not one of those days. Everything goes still as their gathering continues, Kitt lost in thought, Mateo almost unnervingly quiet. Could she tell him the words she speaks, the chants she tells the roots as she carries on with her task, releasing each plant from the Earth, would she?
Perhaps one day she would, but today is not that day, Kitt did not know him well, nor he her.
“This plant?” Repeating Mateo’s question, busying herself with her own sort of listening, almost as though the rush of cool wind through the length of wildflowers, made it possible for them to have things to tell her themselves. “This can help with liver disorders, can,” she makes sure to put emphasis on that word. “It must be prepared correctly, carefully, or else well, you may as well be poisoning your patient.” There was a finality in the last words that left her diamond lips, a seriousness in her tone as she spoke them.
The pale mare prepared all of her mixtures with much the same care as a Mother would a meal, imbuing her salves with love. Careful, ready hands, she knew no different.
“Don’t worry though, I promise to be very careful,” as if he might need convincing, she might not seem like the most steady of creatures if he’s seen her around, stumbling or tripping over herself, but there’s a certain composure that overcomes her when her talents are exercised. A calmness, she’s in her element, doing what she loves.
Mateo he is called, she nods, dipping her ashen head in greeting, saving his namesake for later. It made her wish she knew more of them, the people here, the Kingdom; it was her home now wasn’t it? They were her family now, Rouge and Mateo, she wished to build on that.
“I am new,” a nod of affirmation, “I like your wings, Mateo.” A smile creeps up her lips, alabaster velvet, she portrays sincerity in her smirk, a joyousness. “Are you also a caretaker here?, I mean- Medic, that’s what we’re called here, isn’t it?” What we are called here, a small hint that not only is she new to Dawn Court, but she is new to Novus itself.
@mateo | "speaks" | notes: 491
