10-16-2019, 12:42 AM
His name feels so special come out of her mouth.
There is nothing like that first crush, at least to those not jaded enough to feel it. Thorn has had the luck so many wish they had: such a warm upbringing that this feeling blooming in his chest has ample room to grow. He feels it chase adrenaline through his veins and envelop all of his senses. Infatuation and discovery weave the stickiest of webs, and the winged colt is a more than willing victim.
Of course, Prayer is his spider, but she only wraps him in that innocent obsession of youth. Thorn briefly wonders if she feels as enamored as he, and he draws his head back in contemplation. A stormy look passes across his eyes, but it is quickly wiped away by the sound of his name in her girlish voice.
“Prayer,” he parrots back, savoring the way it tastes just as she did. He smiles a smile so dopey that even he can feel its goofiness. “Don’t look away! I like the way you look at me.” This he adds as if it the most normal thing to say.
Water splashes into the snow when Thorn finally steps out. He visibly shivers against the cold air, tucking his monotone wings tightly against his sides. “I’m f-freezing.” He pauses because of his chattering teeth. “Maybe we should find somewhere warm.” The way he doesn’t even think Prayer won’t accompany is so pure, as if this is just another adventure with an old pal. He smiles and nudges her neck, then demands, “Come on!”
There is nothing like that first crush, at least to those not jaded enough to feel it. Thorn has had the luck so many wish they had: such a warm upbringing that this feeling blooming in his chest has ample room to grow. He feels it chase adrenaline through his veins and envelop all of his senses. Infatuation and discovery weave the stickiest of webs, and the winged colt is a more than willing victim.
Of course, Prayer is his spider, but she only wraps him in that innocent obsession of youth. Thorn briefly wonders if she feels as enamored as he, and he draws his head back in contemplation. A stormy look passes across his eyes, but it is quickly wiped away by the sound of his name in her girlish voice.
“Prayer,” he parrots back, savoring the way it tastes just as she did. He smiles a smile so dopey that even he can feel its goofiness. “Don’t look away! I like the way you look at me.” This he adds as if it the most normal thing to say.
Water splashes into the snow when Thorn finally steps out. He visibly shivers against the cold air, tucking his monotone wings tightly against his sides. “I’m f-freezing.” He pauses because of his chattering teeth. “Maybe we should find somewhere warm.” The way he doesn’t even think Prayer won’t accompany is so pure, as if this is just another adventure with an old pal. He smiles and nudges her neck, then demands, “Come on!”
thorn
under your skin, over the moon
don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do
roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh
@[prayer]