Falls

Foxglove retreated behind her sister and Nephilim, relieved to see that the youngster seemed brave enough to stand up for them. Firethorn shot the golden boy a brief sideways glance. She was less inclined than her sister to believe that they needed protecting, but she was nevertheless almost impressed by the gesture.

Her attention was quickly returned to the older stallion, however, and she continued to glare at him suspiciously as he spoke. She was surprised to hear his explanation, and her red ears flicked backwards in disgust at the idea of Al-Sarim finding her and her sister so ‘beautiful’. She made a face that expressed a similar feeling, wrinkling her nose up as she glanced back at Foxglove.

It was not that Firethorn particularly meant to be rude – not in the adult sense of decorum anyway – but the idea of any kind of relationship evenly remotely romantic was still distinctly unattractive to her adolescent self.

Even if she was old enough to think of boys in that way, Firethorn was hardly the type to be charmed by a few smooth words. Foxglove, under different circumstances, might have been more easily swayed, but shielded by her sister and intimidated by the older male’s entrance, she was not much in the mood for listening to fantasies.

Both girls were somewhat relieved when he turned his attention to Nephilim, commenting on his beauty as well. Foxglove only continued to watch, wide-eyed and quiet, but Firethorn snorted at the words.

“You’re weird,” she said simply, as if she were stating a fact as obvious as the sky was blue.

He asked them their names then, and Firethorn frowned, considering whether she should tell this strange man who she was. Before she could make her decision, however, Foxglove piped up.

“Foxglove,” she said, before her sister could stop her.

Firethorn turned her head, shooting the other filly an annoyed look, at which she ducked her head apologetically. Whenever someone asked her name she always answered without hesitation, like a robot with only one function. She never stopped to think whether it was wise, as if her name was knowledge owed to everyone. But it was too late to take it back now, and with a sigh Firethorn turned back to the stallion. If he knew her sister’s name, there was little point in hiding her own.

“Firethorn.”

She looked to Nephilim, to see if he would answer too.

foxglove && firethorn
LIKE TWO ATOMS IN A MOLECULE, INSEPARABLY COMBINED