just let me cry a little bit longer, sunny

[Rhaegor]

Rhaegor

the playboy

Life, he decided, took up too much time being difficult. If the universe deemed it acceptable to crush him at every turn, he found it only reasonable to thumb his nose at the universe by enjoying himself (even at the strangest times). In the wake of a terrible sickness, he found joy in boyishness, in unresponsibility, in all the things he once prided himself on avoiding in the name of princehood and muteness. The steadfastness of his lover left him with a too-secure foundation, one that he unknowingly pushed and prodded more and more each night.

Most of all, this night.

At the first note of her voice, the stallion spooks. Water shoots every which way as his legs (just before playful and confident) stumble in the warm river, catching on smooth rocks below. He immediately thinks of his mothers - Kagerus? Solace? Mother? But when his brown eyes attach to the figure as she steps out of the gloom and into the moonlight, he knows she is someone else entirely. Not mothers - but still beloved.

He brings his consciousness against hers, briefly - but at the sound of her true voice, he mentally retreats. Feels the seal of his lips as heavily as he did the first time he tried to speak. When she slips into the water, her gold pelt gone silver beneath Luna, Rhae catches his breath. Feels it in his hands like melted flowers, thick, unruly, demanding attention. She (Dawn, Dawn, Dawn!) murmurs of his new, carefree disposition.

Boyish.
All the things he once prided himself on avoiding.

Bitch.

The memory of that word being put in the space between them (whether she knew it or not) stills Rhae's body but only acts as a catalyst to his chaotic but privately had thoughts. Where he should have been rushing forward to embrace the woman he loved (the woman he so desperately, irrationally desired), only the sound of the midnight river stood. Running. Trickling. Warm.

...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...