Teach these broken wings to fly || Svedka

[Svedka]

the secret of our world is written in the stars

She listens intently, engrossed in the way he has enchanted her with his story. It leaves him breathless, to think about his mother’s country and to share that visual with one who truly cares to listen. He wonders briefly (the thought is there and then it is gone) if she would want to come with him to his ancestor’s home, and dance like wildfire beneath the harvest moon and its stars. She would like it there, despite the quietness that loosely coils around her. Svedka can tell that her heart is on her sleeve, much like his own, even though it is still and tender. One only had to knew where to look to see it. 

He is shining bright when she speaks, already stepping closer to her so that they may graze side by side. The grass is sweet and cold with winter’s thaw as he brings another mouthful to his lips, his pale ears trained on her as a moment passes, and then her tinkling voice greets him. It is worth the wait, when he hears what she has to say.

Svedka lifts his head, brows coming together in a knowing arch as a smile brushes across his pale mouth.

“There is magic here, isn’t there? Right now.”

The stallion falls into silence, his cerulean gaze soft with expectancy and wistfulness, the brightly colored blossoms in the tangles of his mane bouncing gently against the musculature of his golden neck.

(be my escape)

Svedka

@[Nymf]