In a world where their mother had not died, and Wasp had not disappeared; Bacardi had not thought of it in a very long time. When he was younger, he used to think of it often, his only way to cope and comfort himself for the things that were missing in his life. But now, with Wasp returned, Bacardi couldn’t help but be flooded with memories.


After the stallion had helped his sister to his home, he had stood guard over her to make sure she recovered safely, but he did not want to seem clingy. Giving her space so that she might once again get her bearings and return to her former self. The strength that he had known her to be since the day he had been born. But it wasn’t just for her. Bacardi felt pieces of himself beginning to tear. The same pieces that had already begun to fray with the things he had learned and the missing pieces he didn’t know, along with the troubles he had been facing within his own home.


Would Wasp know of his heritage with the Lagoon?


When Bacardi finally drew up enough nerve to go and ask her, he wasn’t the only one to approach the mare. His ebony rimmed ears flicked forward as he watched from afar as Drogon walked over to his sister, too far away to hear what he said. He hadn’t officially met the Atlantis born stallion, and in truth he wasn’t sure why he was even still here. A surge of that same protectiveness he had felt in the commons twisted inside Bacardi, wanting to rush forward and drive between them. But Wasp wasn’t that same prone figure laying upon the beach anymore.


Torn, Bacardi pinned his ears at his indecisiveness, before he turned away and returned the way he had come. Drogon wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt Wasp here, surely? And he had faith in his sibling that she could handle herself if Drogon tried. He would just talk to her later.

six years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the bay.

"...speech"