night dissolves into this final frame

The mansion had changed and twisted itself into a multitude of other shapes since the satyr had set hoof the premises last. Esti had been here with her when the hen was a hatchling, and she was growing so fast they took another trip later in the month when she was a gawky teenager. Back when she was a hatchling, she managed to get herself lost in the orchard, little shit. Later, they got lost together in a corn maze. The memory of a smaller Esti was certainly different from the rotund, broody hen back at home. A full-grown brown of two years old now, a figure that would never cease to be startling when considered. It was hard to believe the lanky adolescent she brought here was the mother of a handful of hatchlings now, and quite settled in her ways of being queen of the roost.

It's hard to tell how Meade, who she carried with her today, would compare.

There was no wonder why Ardith beat her sibling to hatching, once seeing their personalities side-by-side. They were different as night and day from the moment they shared the world.

Meade was softer in color than her sister, a soft buttery yellow as counter shading to a dark green blanket over her topside and upper wings. She was just old enough to have grown in some of her markings and it was starting to look like she was going to inherit Vidarr's mottled hide, but in near jewel tones if the subtle colors in her dam was anything to go off of. Where her sibling was soft, Ardith had jagged stripes forming on her dark brown hide, along with the buds of some real thorns upon her tail. They were both undoubtedly Vidarr's daughters, and Lethalia had intentionally picked very different hens each season - and yet somehow, she hadn't expected the siblings to have ended up as different from one another as they did.

There wasn't anything with mild-mannered sarane, but with the rest of her creatures... it would be in Mead's best interest to gain some backbone before she grew up. Part of the woman wanted to remind herself it may be too early to tell what their personalities would be when they grew up, since things could change pretty dramatically along with their adult growth spurt.

"C'mon baby, time t' get going."

Meade doesn't cling to her in stubbornness as much as the other babies did, but her tiny hooked claws scrabbled for a handle on her owner's clothing as it felt like she was being pried away. Upset squeaks and chirps fill Lethalia's ear as she attempts to pick Meade's claws out of her shirt gingerly as she could, feeling like she'd just done much the same with her sibling. It almost made her feel bad about setting the hen down, all of the fearful murmurings in her ear.

In the interest of not damaging her creatures in the long run, Lethalia chose to not press the issue with Meade. She wasn't just being sleepy and stubborn like her sibling had, but if the trembling under her chin was any indication, the little one was terrified about being away from home and her mother figure. Lacking Esti to defend her, the satyr's warmth and horns seemed enough like a mother hen to be more comforting than the open world.

Quite different sisters indeed.

"D'you just wanna explore with me? Y'can stay righ' here with me," Lethalia continued to discuss with her charge, planting a small kiss on the muzzle tucked beneath her chin. Words would be lost on the hen unless she was provided with her own ribbon at some point later on, but the satyr hadn't quite gotten that far with planning out this one's future just yet.

Unlike other times she'd visited the mansion, there was little reason to remain outdoors. Some seasons brought with them lovely changes to the grounds - Lethalia could have wandered and gotten lost in the corn maze and orchard for quite some time. Even the creepy ice sculptures winter brought could have been explored among for ages.

June heat may normally dive her inside, but she typically took every route she possibly could to not go into the mansion even if that's normally the entire point of going. Lethalia could normally have find plenty of trouble outside for Meade, if the hen was even capable of 'getting into' anything.

This 'Firefly Festival' however, left the mansion looking offensively normal. Perhaps that was the point, where the huge iron gate was the only thing that looked remotely out of place. Otherwise, the mansion looked something like a suburban house with a well kept, boring lawn and little else. Even the building itself was deceptively plain, disguising itself in generically boring off-white siding.

The porch even looked quaint and harmless. It wrapped around the house in it's entirety, giving the woman an excuse to walk around the mansion's border. Just a little while longer before going in was a welcome excuse, even if it becomes quickly clear that she would be finding nothing special out here.

Strange to see the place in such an abnormal state - and funny that the normalcy of it was enough to make her all the more wary of it. Cute potted plants span the wide porch railing, and she passes by a large old-fashioned swinging bench chained to the rafters above. The quiet had brought Meade's curious amber eyes out from beneath her owner's chin, daring to take a look around now that she wasn't under the impression she was going to be torn away from her safe spot. Lethalia smiles at the hen's quiet snuffling of the air, gingerly switching which arm she cradled the hatchling in.

"Glad you're happy," Lethalia remarked, causing Meade to turn to her with a minuscule peep. The hen had managed to relax enough to get curious about their quiet surroundings, yet the satyr can't keep herself from getting into a battle of wits with a house, goddssake. Surely she didn't need to be this intimidated by the magic of this place, did she?

There was a chance it was just her instincts that the magical spark set off, but she couldn't help her dislike for it. It was true enough that she always made it out, with her pets and a handful of small trinkets. There was just something too unsettling about a place that changed and almost reacted to a presence, responded with a real sort of magic. All like some sort of twisted funhouse, but Lethalia didn't care for those either. There was much less to trust here, more real and unsettling than warped mirrors.