When Matoaka first heard the young voices chiming about covering someone with flowers she began to shake excitedly. There was nothing she loved more than playing with nature, but making someone smile was great too! As young Roisin finds her with her small army of foals, Matoaka was already exclaiming a yes. She follows the small group until everyone had been gathered. She listens with bright eyes as Roisin explains again what they would do and how they would do it. Armed with a mouthful of grass and leaves, Matoaka was ready. There happens to be a dandelion along with the mouthful she grabbed (she was much too excited to focus on getting anything more magical) so she was perfectly happy with her choice. Her eyes scan the area desperately for the stallion in question before returning to Rosin as she demonstrates her plan. She giggles at the filly’s movements, but it grows louder as the fiery haired colt chimes in about biting. Matoaka walks over to him and playfully bumps her hip into his. ”No silly!” She giggles as she speaks. ”We are going to make him pretty, right?” She turns to Roisin for conformation.

Þrima, on the other hand, refused to play along. It took some convincing before she decides to join the group. Her eyes roll each time someone jumps with joy or hums or anything really. The young girl was not in the best mood today. Technically she has never been in the greatest spirits since her entrance into the world where her mother left her in the care of strangers. She was fine in the first few weeks of life, but that was because she didn’t truly understand what was happening. Now that she knows her mother was truly gone, she hated the world for it. Her mind often went to thoughts of her mystery sire and her long gone dam. Where they together somewhere without her? Did either of them care? Thankfully she had Siobhan and a group of happy siblings. Well…she was thankful to be alive and cared for, but not for the happy part. Everyone was too happy.

She follows, but only so her sister would shut up. Þrima doesn’t grab anything to partake (though she really considers the mud when Roisin mentions it) and just stands there at the back of the group with a sour look on her face. The only time she shows any kind of amusement was when Hades spoke of biting. Though one of the older filly’s corrects him, Þrima speaks up to back the colt. ”I think biting sounds like an excellent idea.” Mischief gleams in her eyes.