05-08-2018, 04:04 PM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
The water is cold and unforgiving against his skin, biting into the muscle that quivers uncontrollably beneath its touch. But he cannot leave the water; not yet, anyway, with this creature before him. Standing on the surface of the water, with transparent wings that glitter like cobwebs in the dewy sunlight mornings back in Hyaline, and the color of the purest white and the lavender growing in the valley. She steps closer to him, the nameless maiden, and he shows his pleasure by the way his pinkish lips break apart to form a charming smile, his eyes coming alive and sparkling at her confirming his question. It fascinates him that the single bulb had traveled far beyond the sea and so perfectly found its way to her, then led her to him. It is like a story he had heard beneath the rumble of the volcano when he had been just a foal, but now he is living in it instead.
“It’s good to know it had left me for a greater purpose,” he breathes in a hushed tone, his voice pouring into vapor as it leaves his pale mouth, pulling his chin towards his chest as she steps closer to him. She offers him her nose and he eagerly accepts it, stretching out his pale golden neck to gently press his muzzle to hers, his eyes bright. His nostrils flare, quivering as he inhales the scent of salt and sun - a distant memory, fuzzy in his mind, though lacking the smoke and ash of his forgotten homeland. Ischia’s name passes through her lavender lips and he smirks, only moving his nose from hers when she pulls away from him first with a soft chuckle that reminds him much of the tinkling of sea-glass.
Svedka pulls himself from the riverbed with the water-walker now beside him on the grey bank. His voice shivers with the cold, his muscles tightening beneath his coat in attempt to keep the blood flowing. “You are a maiden, yes? And of the sea - how are you not?” She is unabashedly unsure and almost nervous beside him, and he wonders why she is; had no one asked her about herself before? He smiles easily and warmly, despite the cold that rakes their skin. The sound of the river churns lazily behind them and with a fluidity in his step he moves himself closer to her, the dampness of his legs from the water creating a much bolder version of himself in doing so. “You must be a master of the seas to stand so perfectly above it without sinking below it,” he offers with a deep laugh, touching his chin to his chest which causes the red and black feather behind his ear to move out from beneath the veil of ivory and blue mane. He shifts his weight casually, nearly hip to hip with the stranger that came to him from the sea. His neck uncurves, hovering his muzzle just a few inches before her mouth, non verbally asking for permission to touch her again, if only for the sake of warmth in the dead of winter.
“What does it feel like - walking on water as if it’s land?”
“It’s good to know it had left me for a greater purpose,” he breathes in a hushed tone, his voice pouring into vapor as it leaves his pale mouth, pulling his chin towards his chest as she steps closer to him. She offers him her nose and he eagerly accepts it, stretching out his pale golden neck to gently press his muzzle to hers, his eyes bright. His nostrils flare, quivering as he inhales the scent of salt and sun - a distant memory, fuzzy in his mind, though lacking the smoke and ash of his forgotten homeland. Ischia’s name passes through her lavender lips and he smirks, only moving his nose from hers when she pulls away from him first with a soft chuckle that reminds him much of the tinkling of sea-glass.
Svedka pulls himself from the riverbed with the water-walker now beside him on the grey bank. His voice shivers with the cold, his muscles tightening beneath his coat in attempt to keep the blood flowing. “You are a maiden, yes? And of the sea - how are you not?” She is unabashedly unsure and almost nervous beside him, and he wonders why she is; had no one asked her about herself before? He smiles easily and warmly, despite the cold that rakes their skin. The sound of the river churns lazily behind them and with a fluidity in his step he moves himself closer to her, the dampness of his legs from the water creating a much bolder version of himself in doing so. “You must be a master of the seas to stand so perfectly above it without sinking below it,” he offers with a deep laugh, touching his chin to his chest which causes the red and black feather behind his ear to move out from beneath the veil of ivory and blue mane. He shifts his weight casually, nearly hip to hip with the stranger that came to him from the sea. His neck uncurves, hovering his muzzle just a few inches before her mouth, non verbally asking for permission to touch her again, if only for the sake of warmth in the dead of winter.
“What does it feel like - walking on water as if it’s land?”
(be my escape)
Svedka
@[Kylin] Thank you! He's infatuated <3