09-08-2016, 07:55 AM
<center><link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Slabo+27px|Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><div style="width:500px; background-color: #171a22; box-shadow: 0px 0px 30px #000000;"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/bSP9mTL.jpg"><div style="font-family: 'Slabo 27px', serif; color: #605f66; font-size: 10pt; text-align: left; padding-left: 35px; padding-top: 12px; padding-bottom:10px; line-height: 15pt; letter-spacing: 2px; font-style: italic;">With my speechless calm eyes,</div><div style="font-family: 'Slabo 27px', serif; color: #605f66; font-size: 10pt; text-align: right; padding-right: 35px; padding-top: 12px; padding-bottom:10px; line-height: 15pt; letter-spacing: 2px; font-style: italic;">nothing is coming to rise.</div><div style="padding-left: 35px; padding-right: 35px; font-family: 'Slabo 27px', serif; font-size: 13.2px; color: #d3d3d3; text-align: justify; line-height: 110%; letter-spacing: 1px;">
Is it really always like that? You cannot be sure, but in their case it is how it works.
He is just about to take a deep breath – finally after holding it to be able to hear all clearly – when her answer reaches his ears. There are no words to express the relief that washes over him, like a weight that got lifted of his shoulders. Roan. She’s alive, she’s here. Yet his worries aren’t all gone just yet, he had to make sure she was okay, that she was safe and back at his side again. Or he at hers? He answers her call.
Brynmor’s eyes aren’t able to see his lover against the rocky terrain of the mountain. Instead his ears told him from which direction her answer had come and he sets of in that direction. Ignoring his burning knees he pushes himself forward, climbing up the mountain again in a too hurried pace. The thin air, rocky ground and exhaustion slowed him down, but simply walking would take him too long to reach Roan. He needed to see her and it had to be now. He’s panting and his coat all drenched. His thick Tundra winter coat wasn’t meant for this.
And then, finally, he recognizes the silhouette of the petite bay roan mare. ”Roan!” Brynmor’s pace has slowed down, but his walk is fast as he refuses to give in to his burning muscles. He could do at least this much for her. Tears of relief are shimmering in his eyes as his muzzle reaches out to brush lightly across her cheek. Over and over again he mumbles her name, almost like he couldn’t believe that she was really there. ”How are you? Are you okay?” his voice laced with worry and concern, overflowing with love.
For a moment he moves backwards, to quickly glance over her body. She seemed okay, unharmed, but he had to be sure. He wouldn’t risk losing her. But the distance is too much, so he steps closer towards Roan again, his muzzle nuzzling her mane and deeply breathing in her scent. There are so many things Brynmor wants to say, how much he had missed her, how worried he had been, or that he had been afraid to lose her. But instead he stays silent, just basking himself in her presence.
</div><div style="width: 430px; border-bottom: 1px solid #605f66; margin-top: 5px;"></div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; font-size: 55pt; color: #605f66; letter-spacing: 6px; word-spacing: 4px; line-height: 40pt; padding-top: 30px; margin-left: 30pt; margin-right: 30pt; text-shadow: 2px 2px 8px #3a3a46;">BRYNMOR</div><br></div></center>
Is it really always like that? You cannot be sure, but in their case it is how it works.
He is just about to take a deep breath – finally after holding it to be able to hear all clearly – when her answer reaches his ears. There are no words to express the relief that washes over him, like a weight that got lifted of his shoulders. Roan. She’s alive, she’s here. Yet his worries aren’t all gone just yet, he had to make sure she was okay, that she was safe and back at his side again. Or he at hers? He answers her call.
Brynmor’s eyes aren’t able to see his lover against the rocky terrain of the mountain. Instead his ears told him from which direction her answer had come and he sets of in that direction. Ignoring his burning knees he pushes himself forward, climbing up the mountain again in a too hurried pace. The thin air, rocky ground and exhaustion slowed him down, but simply walking would take him too long to reach Roan. He needed to see her and it had to be now. He’s panting and his coat all drenched. His thick Tundra winter coat wasn’t meant for this.
And then, finally, he recognizes the silhouette of the petite bay roan mare. ”Roan!” Brynmor’s pace has slowed down, but his walk is fast as he refuses to give in to his burning muscles. He could do at least this much for her. Tears of relief are shimmering in his eyes as his muzzle reaches out to brush lightly across her cheek. Over and over again he mumbles her name, almost like he couldn’t believe that she was really there. ”How are you? Are you okay?” his voice laced with worry and concern, overflowing with love.
For a moment he moves backwards, to quickly glance over her body. She seemed okay, unharmed, but he had to be sure. He wouldn’t risk losing her. But the distance is too much, so he steps closer towards Roan again, his muzzle nuzzling her mane and deeply breathing in her scent. There are so many things Brynmor wants to say, how much he had missed her, how worried he had been, or that he had been afraid to lose her. But instead he stays silent, just basking himself in her presence.
</div><div style="width: 430px; border-bottom: 1px solid #605f66; margin-top: 5px;"></div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; font-size: 55pt; color: #605f66; letter-spacing: 6px; word-spacing: 4px; line-height: 40pt; padding-top: 30px; margin-left: 30pt; margin-right: 30pt; text-shadow: 2px 2px 8px #3a3a46;">BRYNMOR</div><br></div></center>