and I could easily lose my mind; the way you kiss me will work each time
calling me to come back to bed, singing Georgia on my mind
As the Hyalinian prince makes his way towards the base of the volcano, the faint scent of another makes its way to his nostrils. The ash largely covers such scents, and indeed the contagion is no help in his ability to breathe; but it matters little that Rhaegor notices her, for in the next moment, she calls out and his eyes find her figure. A pale slate-chestnut colour, the mare blends almost seamlessly with the rocky area they found themselves in - but those wings, well, they were far from blending. Green and blue and shimmering with all the glory of the stars, her wings catch his attention all at once, though his mind goes elsewhere as another round of coughing distracts him.
For a moment after straightening, the young stallion considers skittering away to avoid any kind of interaction, but then his joints ache and he realizes that he needs a break in his travelings, anyway. With perked ears, he hears the mare's question, drawn in by the way it rings with a motherly tone. He is a mama's boy if ever there was one, raised by two of the strongest and yet most caring mares that walked Beqanna today. Tremble gently at every point, Rhaegor picks his way over to the peacock mare, struggling to stop himself once they stand at an acceptable distance apart when what he really wants is to burrow into her embrace.
What now, idiot?
Standing with the wind to his back, the Pegasus uneasily re-settles his wings as the gusting breeze disgruntles the pale golden feathers found there. The silence between them stretches from a reasonable moment to questionable seconds, to an uncomfortable moment and then an awkward minute. The wind blows some more, providing far more noise than the prince could ever hope to. When his lips part as if to speak, a coughing fit interrupts him lamely, causing him to curl his head to his chest as his muscles clench and try to keep him standing as his ribs convulse.
When he straightens, a fine splattering of blood marks his shoulder, a drop of the same ruby liquid trailing down the corner of his mouth. I grimace, meeting her gaze but feeling somehow guilty about doing so, about wasting her time. Perhaps the blood will be answer enough to her question. One as beautiful as she deserves all the answers in the world.
Rhaegor