jane
What is beauty? As a child, it had been the colour of her mother’s hide turned in direction of her mouth. As a weanling, it had been the coming of Spring to her childhood meadows. Now? Now, it had no definition. This fact could often lead Jane astray, if she thought too much about it. What was pretty was dresses and balls and drinks, but were any of these beautiful.
The day wasn’t ugly, though. Some of the excitement of the crowd had managed to brush off on her, but for the most part she was repulsed, pushed away by a turning of power that meant nothing to her. Back in her home, kings and queens passed by birthright, and power had not passed in the time that she had been alive. Celebrations had been generous enough at the queen’s secondborn, but in all honesty, Jane didn’t have any expectations.
The antlered individual heard Jane’s words and snapped towards her. His body was rigid, wary, and almost guilty. Not of a guilty action, but the act of being caught. It reminded Jane of how Castor had looked in the meadow on that night everything changed. For a moment, Jane wondered if she had been wrong and it had been some other horned creature who had rescued her. Heat and exhaustion did that to a person.
“I hope you’d know me, you saved my life,” she snorted, trying to pull at that childish infusion of joy that had once made her so ripe. It seemed to flee from her in every moment, every hour.
But then he did know her. So it must be Galileo. She saw him adjust his stature, firm up his body. “I’m sure it will be more fun than what I was having before, she admitted, “I don’t know anybody at all in this godforsaken city.” There was no heat in those words, no real feeling at all in the adjective. She spoke them like an onlooker, a bystander to a national action. She sniffed, flicking her tail.
@[Galileo] / speaks / finally! thank you for your patience
