//------------------------------// // The tint of Confusion is Ochre // Story: Existence Bears Tints // by Fatail //------------------------------// The tint of confusion is Ochre. You feel like retching and heaving, but you have no idea why. ============================================ For most, It's generally annoying to experience the general cacophony and getting nystagmus from all the swirling shades. For the young and impressionable mind, it's mostly just confusing. More so when you can't recognize those stimuli going by. It's worse when you can't name even half of them. Or speak altogether, for that matter. Yet who would expect a.. yes, rather colorful and intelligent.. but still only a bird, to talk? Madman, that's who. When will they bring Tia? It's cold, The lone juvenile phoenix wondered, warmed only by the nearby cup of stale vending machine coffee. She will need her trinket. She gazed about the heavy golden crown looming over her like a guardian, it's visage marred only by the occasional splotches of closer unidentifiable substance drying out in the wind. No problem, I'll watch it. She'll need it. ... ... It's cold. When you're spending most of your rather extended life to come in the mane of probably the warmest pony in existence, anywhere else ought to seem chilly by comparison. So, distracting oneself with anything else might be a good idea. Why is everyone running around all the time? Are they looking for something? The chick desperately tried to understand her surroundings, feathers ruffling in the air while being a stark contrast to all the dark colors around or even the diffused blues and reds flashing madly in rhythm. Maybe it's some kind of alarm. She judged the offending light harshly. They lost something important or someone stole it. If Tia is helping them it will go faster... still, it might take a while. ... Was it autumn, already? It felt like summer with its warmer days was only mere weeks ago, the green leaves dancing around happily in the refreshing breezes of Central Equestria. Even if she couldn't fly yet, the appreciation for the calm gusts of nature was ingrained deeply into her very bones from birth, as many of her ancestors most likely experienced as well. Now, it looked like it will be rainy mornings and falling foliage for them. Again. But... maybe with the promise of the seemingly limitless lifespan, she lost something vital for the living beings. Maybe possessing the immortal essence within you wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Because apparently, it could screw up your perception of time in the long run. Any would shudder to think what could that do to one's psyche after a decade.. a century.. a millennium. Hmm. Not like she had any immortals casually walking around to ask them about it. Tia wouldn't know anyway, they're barely few years apart and Luna was out of the question entirely. She didn't like her. Nor did she like Luna in return. The younger sibling is cold. Like autumn. Glancing sideways to distract herself with the only source of warmth in the vicinity, she remembered that Luna.. was a lot like coffee. In some ways, she could be warm and soothing, perfect for fending off the bitter cold of the night she so beloved. However, it was also unbearably bitter and muddled thoughts with false promises of easy power rush, only to after a time demand more in return than it gave away in the first place. Like.. black magic. The black vile magic of coffee preparation. Yet, at least the despicable liquid was warm. Luna was like cold coffee. A truly horrible combination worthy of pity. Speaking of pity. It seemed someone had finally amassed enough of it to show some interest in the small child. Though it appeared the only figure caring enough to stop what they were doing previously was still hesitant to approach. Quickly looking to and fro from behind her round glasses, as if it was forbidden or outright suicidal to even gaze upon the truly dangerous and deadly baby bird the size of a teacup. Still, who could resist a palette of such vibrant colors, the joy and pride of every phoenix be it young or old? No one. With the lab-coat clad figure finally approaching, the young and not yet perfect eyesight of the fiery guardian had focused enough to see the windblown hair swirling behind the tall biped. Long hair. Lady it is, then. With the distance between them dwindling, so did the blurry shroud pulled over the ever-curious eyes and before they ever knew it, a rosewood red scarf enveloped the golden crown and circled it a few times, make-shifting something similar to a nest. A barrier between the tiny creature and wind, at least. As the female crouched in front of the peculiar resting place made atop the plastic crate of first-aid supplies, both of them only observed one another in curiosity, not saying a word or making any rush movements. When the staring contest was finally broken by the smaller of the pair cocking its head sideways in a questioning manner, the female couldn't help but wonder about the representative of the previously never seen species. Those eyes seem so intelligent, so... understanding. No, not understanding. Willing to understand, yes. Trying to do so with all their might, but failing due to the still naive age hidden behind them. That kind of innocence ought to be protected, reassured if needed be and the time to do so now was as good as any. “It's going to be alright, little one.” There it was, the first words spoken directly to her since all of this waiting started. With the parting smile and a rattle of plastic identifier bearing too many stars reminding the nestling of Luna, the figure returned to whatever that it was doing before the brief break. It's going to be alright, little one. It seemingly echoed within the soft plush walls made by the caring protection of the fabric. And it will be, as soon as she's inside. I would hope so. Philomena agreed. It's cold, after all.