There's an art to life's distraction, to somehow escape the burning wait, the art of scraping through
Of course her brother was only being protective, but that didn't mean Hester was going to take it as anything more than a slight, a tamping down where she had been trying to grow. That was a concern for a different time, because she was satisfied with the thrum of understanding that came from the eagle.
You mean like a birthday party? There's a very clear teasing lilt in the bond, made even clearer by the showy trot she stepped in for a few steps, before returning to her easy stride. We have them too. With presents, and drinking, and all that. A thoughtful pause, then, with a kind of resigned honesty: 'Course, most people will drink for making it through the day too. Perhaps she was biased, but after a childhood spent accompanying her father to pubs, and an adulthood filled with plans to play in more of them, she'd seen more than her fair share of casual drunks.
The conversation drifts away though, the sheer magnificence of the sight before them making words seem inadequate, no matter how she tries. This is truly Halo at it's finest, the sights preserved only for those willing to scrape a living into the ice.
There's a kind of hot embarrassment that floods through the bond in response to the amusement, though it's followed by Hester's own sheepish (ha) amusement, feeling silly for being overrun by her instincts for a moment. What kind of game? Comes the immediate question, Hester squeezing under an ice shelf and appearing under the circling hawk again. Don't you think you have a bit of an unfair advantage in hide and seek? Not that it stopped Hester from immediately poking around for a hiding spot, cloven hooves picking out a delicate path under and around the panes of ice.
You mean like a birthday party? There's a very clear teasing lilt in the bond, made even clearer by the showy trot she stepped in for a few steps, before returning to her easy stride. We have them too. With presents, and drinking, and all that. A thoughtful pause, then, with a kind of resigned honesty: 'Course, most people will drink for making it through the day too. Perhaps she was biased, but after a childhood spent accompanying her father to pubs, and an adulthood filled with plans to play in more of them, she'd seen more than her fair share of casual drunks.
The conversation drifts away though, the sheer magnificence of the sight before them making words seem inadequate, no matter how she tries. This is truly Halo at it's finest, the sights preserved only for those willing to scrape a living into the ice.
There's a kind of hot embarrassment that floods through the bond in response to the amusement, though it's followed by Hester's own sheepish (ha) amusement, feeling silly for being overrun by her instincts for a moment. What kind of game? Comes the immediate question, Hester squeezing under an ice shelf and appearing under the circling hawk again. Don't you think you have a bit of an unfair advantage in hide and seek? Not that it stopped Hester from immediately poking around for a hiding spot, cloven hooves picking out a delicate path under and around the panes of ice.
Hester
