rayen & lucra

home
lost valley
comrades
the legion
lovers
no one

hitlist
none

children
lucra (x pan)

rank
recon

Rayen was no social butterfly, nor deviant, merely unphased by the busy-bodies and war lords. It wasn't for her, none of it, but she faithfully returned from time to time - just to show that pretty little face of hers, her caramel eyes and her tainted smile. She was like most zebra, short, stalky, striped, big eared; all except the rows of polka-dots lining the under-stripe beneath her eyes, another series of speckles tarnished her sagging baby-belly. Speaking of the devil - Lucra's spindly pale frame came bounding from behind the black and white mare. Lucra had the bold tall Lipizzan features of her father, along with the bright pale overcoat - her skin though, unlike his, was black as coal... matching the chaotic stripes draped messily down her back legs and hips. She was a different sight, which was for certain.

Rayen's cool golden eyes slid to her daughter, a gentle huff pushed out her black muzzle, calling the filly closer, they were not in Rayen's part of the Valley anymore; Pan and his army patrolled these borders, Rayen was aware. Although she was almost positive the crowds would great the first Legion born child great satisfaction, she was still weary of those new recruits Pan has been condoning. She trusted him though, she had to.

Rayen's two-toned body slipped from the emerald coverage of her dark forest, her lanky child squeezing out just after the striped mare's hind leg separated from the umbrage. The filly's mocha eyes met the bright sun full and bright for the very first time. It felt warm against her chest, cloaking the rest of her alabaster body, it was embracing her. This new world was some much more than the last - brighter, embracing, loving, soft and warm.

How mistaken you really are, my little Lucra.
we're chaied.
my angel daughter of the rain.