Morgaine

Daughter of Titania
Mate: Slinky

~***~

"It'll have to be something that starts with M-O-R," Morgana mused, watching as her newest sister, tiny and Rose all over, tumble playfully about on the grassy floor of the nest. "Or she'll feel left out with me and Morgause."

"She's hardly the same as us," Morgause muttered darkly, glaring at the hatchling's smooth, even coloring. "She's too . . . pink!"

Morgana snorted, then indicated their mother and her flared Magenta fins.

"Light pink though!" Morgause complained. "She's too soft, in every way! By the time I was her age I was already stalking and pouncing!"

"You were chasing your own tail," Morgana corrected. "I was there, remember?"

"She's only just hatched yesterday," Titania interjected. "It's taken us this long to name her, so we'd best get on with it before she gets any bigger. She'll learn to stalk and pounce and fly and do everything once she's a full member of the clan, and that means having a name."

"I don't trust her with my clan," Morgause insisted, sticking her nose haughtily in the air. Given that Morgana was their mother's heiress, Morgause had set herself immediately to the task of learning to fight, mostly under Prettyboy's tutelage. She was already a Level 7 magic-user, and had grown a rather obnoxious suspicion of anyone she perceived as too weak to defend the clan.

"Watch your tongue," growled Prettyboy, flicking his gaze to Morgana once he had Morgause's attention. Morgana chittered happily at him, always pleased when her Guardian reminded people that it was her clan and that after Titania she would be in charge.

"Not what I meant," Morgause said sullenly. "It's my clan too, spoilsport, and you should be concerned about it's safety just as much as I am!"

"Children, children," Titania swooped into the middle of their argument, settling proudly upright between her two bickering daughters. "Morgana, Morgause is right to be worried about the safety of the clan. Fighters are always good to have around, and the security of those beneath you should always be a priority for a leader."

Morgause preened, and Morgana glared at her.

"However," Titania continued, turning to her younger daughter, "Morgana is right in pointing out that your sister is a day old, and can't be expected to fight already."

Now it was Morgana's turn to preen and Morgause's turn to glare.

"I'm sure, given time, she will be able to gain your respect and your trust," Titania concluded. "None of this brings us any closer to a name though, and I believe that's what we were supposed to be talking about."

"Gain," Morgana mused, fins flattening to her head in concentration. "Gain, gain. That sounds like . . . what about Mor-gain?"

"Morgaine?" Titania repeated, testing the word.

"It suits her," Prettyboy agreed, nodding demurely at Morgana. "It's rather . . . pretty, I'd say. Sort of cute, like her."

"Cute?" Morgause repeated, looking down at her sister again, who was now rolling over and over from one end of the nest to the other. "Yes I suppose she is . . . cute, isn't she?"

"Think that maybe you might like her, cuteness and all?" Morgana goaded.

Morgause huffed. "Maybe," she conceded. "Someday."