Common

This girl is a gun, before you know it, it's done
And you'll be wishing that you crossed your fingers

arceline lingers at the edge of the Commons, tucked against the treeline to keep the bitter winter wind from biting at her nose and ears. She has always hated the cold, the snow, the ice. It was a miracle she managed to survive as long as she had on the Peak. At heart she was and always would be a desert-dweller, built to thrive beneath the boiling sun.

But the Hills will not thrive if she becomes complacent. She needs warm bodies to occupy her territory, and every king and queen on the Islands knows the Commons is the best place to find them. And so, in the dead of winter, Marceline hauls herself to the Crossing, intent on bringing home at least one new herd member to call the Hills home.

The trek is made more difficult by the frigid water and the increasing roundness of her body. It seemed, against her hopes, her liaison with Hasan had borne fruit. Marceline still finds herself swaying between despair and delight, unsure how to feel about bringing another child into the world that wasn't Asmodeus'. It felt as if she were betraying him, and no matter how much the logical side of her mind tries to insist otherwise, she cannot shake the feeling. She tries not to dwell on it too much, lest she be consumed again by grief.

There is no time to be sad when she has a herd to run and an island to unite, after all.

Marceline braces herself against the biting gale, her jaw clenched to keep her teeth from chattering. Though the day is clear, there is little warmth to be found beneath the sun. So far there has been little luck to be found here. Perhaps those wiser than her have decided to avoid the harsh winter climate of the Crossing, but Marceline is nothing if not tenacious. She would not leave until she got what she came for.

Just then, the shout of a young stallion snaps Marceline from her ruminations. The tone of desperation his wailing cry carries tugs at Marceline, her amber eyes tracking him as he bolts towards the center of the Commons. Round and round he spins, eyes flashing and limbs flailing. As Marceline moves towards him, she can see the silver shimmer of tears in his eyes.

"Are you well? May I help you?" Marceline asks, bringing herself to a halt a few body lengths away. She dares not come any closer lest she run the risk of getting toppled over by his continuous flailing.