sephiroth
Sephiroth had been returning to the mainland less and less. Despite his instinct as a stallion to invite more to the Thicket, he felt a strange guilt each time he left the Thicket behind. Perhaps it was the fear that someone might take it back again, or maybe it was the very abandonment issues that had plagued him since his return. The same desire that had made him want to crash onto the sands of Tinuvel and scream into the void that he had challenged for a spot on the snow-covered island. If he was his neighbor, Solomon would have to look at him, right? His challenge was answered and he fought tooth and nail with his half-sister. He was unused to the snow and slush beneath his feet where Parvati had thrived. His battle was lost and he slunk off to the mainland bloodied and bruised. His ego had taken a harsher beating than him.
For several months he was despondent, alone, and hopeless. He slunk through the commons until the once-fresh scars along his spotted hide healed. Most had vanished completely, but several were visible due to the shift in the pale hair that grew where they once stood.
Things were going well for him, at least on the surface. Deep down, Sephiroth was still anxious and alone. The fears and anxieties that once plagued him outwardly had simply found root elsewhere. Like vines they grew along his core, twisted around his bones, and blossomed on his spine. The radiant joy that his family brought him was more than he thought he had ever deserved, but the shadow of his father and Sephiroth's own complex emotions still eclipsed it at moments.
He knew was uncertainty and pain looked like. And when his ever-green gaze fell upon Violeta in the commons he felt drawn like a moth to a flame. His ears flip forward, though a frown tugs at his pale lips. He inches forward, carefully, and just when he is about to nicker something else startles the mare from the ground. His own surprised snort mimics her own as he jolts backward, dropping his hips and scanning the dried leaves and dirt for the perpetrator. It slithers by and he lunges toward, stomping his hooves in a flurry of blows. When he finally stops, the thing is gone, either pulverized or vanished into the bushes he cannot be sure.
His chest heaves from the exertion and he thinks suddenly of his son and what he would have done if Masa had been chased by a creature so foul. Whatever fear he had felt upon seeing the snake increased ten-fold and his heart constricted with worry. He is lost in his own head, staring wide-eyed at the displaced earth where he had just been thrashing, oblivious for a moment to the mare still struggling.
Her voice pierces the air and he turns toward her, eyes white-rimmed and nostrils flared, exposing the pink insides. He arches his neck, attempting to appear larger than whatever caused her second fright. He refuses to look at her hair still entwined in the branches and instead drops his head, unsure of whether he should approach. Whatever ordeal they had just gone through had taken a bit out of him, and her it seemed. The worry that clouds his face as he turns back to her is palpable and he hesitantly takes a step forward.
"Are you alright?" His voice is deep, a rumble like distant lightning, and despite the twitching of his flesh there is no hesitance in his words. Sephiroth does not draw too close, instead opting to take the place of a guard as she gathered herself and her thoughts.