Mesnyi’s eyes widened as the mare sunk to the ground. She didn’t look fine. She wasn’t certain at first that the mare ought to be going to the swamp - so humid, and full of strange beasts! - until she supposed that she must mean the hospital. Or so Mesnyi hoped. She did her best to sound cordial when she said, “Oh. Well, if you say so. I’ll wait with you, if you don’t mind.” She glanced at the ground before laying beside the stranger, tucking her hooves in and curling her long tail about her. She smiled at the woman’s question. “My violin.” She opened the case, ever eager.
The glass violin floated out before her with its bow, placed so the sickly mare wouldn’t have to strain to look closely. “Would you like me to play something? I know a rather soothing piece that I learned in a land where all the birds flew upside-down.” She glanced away. “Or something like that.”
@Luvena
"You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to be left after. Some women are like hearthfires, not much to look at but underneath they are all warm red coal that burns a long, long while."
![[Image: 26y3cfu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/26y3cfu.png)
plotter
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