Operation: Brat Child [Private]

QUINCE
WC: 492

The morning was notably hot. Quince had risen early, as was expected. He wouldn't want to be late for something like this.

About a month's time back, he was approached by an acquaintance of his, Alyx. The two had met a short while back on patrol, and seemed to get along well enough that they continued to meet up every once in awhile, on or off of duty. She had come to him with a look of inquisition, and sure enough, she had a proposition. She had asked the stallion if he would be up for training a new squire. Of course this piqued his interest, and as the conversation grew on, he learned that her daughter, Genevieve, was nearing the proper age to begin training. As hesitant as he initially was, Alyx gradually won him over with her words, and he obliged with a nervousness about him. However, he was an experienced Chevalier, and it was only natural for him to take on a squire at some point in his life.

And with that said, Quince found himself picking his way through the busy streets. It was bustling with energy and eager faces, aside from the slaves who tended to their masters. Blissfully ignoring this, he continued on, his back growing hot under the bright sun and between the wave of heat cast by the bodies of those around him. He was headed for a particular spot; a relaxed area at the farthest end of the bridge between the districts. He was going to be late if he didn't pick up the pace, but it was nearly impossible due to the frantic movements that swallowed the road ahead.

It took some time, but he finally spotted a familiar face. Although he had never met her, Alyx had described her perfectly; Navina, Genevieve's nanny. He raised his head as he made his way toward her, and finally exited the thickest part of the crowd to stand in front of them. It was only now that Genevieve herself came into view; the horses around him had blocked his view of the filly.

"Good morning, ladies." He smiled as he spoke, slightly unfolding his wings to air them out. They were a sight to see, especially shining under this kind of heat. In the shadow of his mane, the blue plumage on his face also seemed to glisten.

"You must be Genevieve," he spoke, fixing his gaze on the small mare. "Your mom's told me a lot about you, but I was still eager to meet you for myself." He took a short side glance at Navina to gain silent approval, and she seemed to smile in return. "Tell me, Genevieve... why is it that you want to become a Chevalier?" He slightly raised an eyebrow at her. He didn't mean anything aggressive by it; her answer, though, might mean a lot to him in regards to better understanding her personality.