08-18-2018, 06:04 PM
I'm certain that the stallion will stop. When he does not - when he presses forward too close - I panic. My yellow wings flare out to the side, and I instantaneously press the emotion of fear as firmly into his mind as I feel it in my own.
The panic takes less than a heartbeat to subside and I am almost as quick at grabbing back to projection. It might have reached him for a millisecond, or it might have not quite reached him. I am firmly hoping for the latter, though there is no denying that I was thrown by his quick arrival. My wings have begun to droop from where they'd flared out, and I remind myself to take a deep breath.
"You startled me." I say, as though that was not obvious from the still-rapid beating of my heart. "I don't do well with being startled." There is neither an apology or an accusation in my tone, and the blue grey eyes with which I now watch him are only curious.
"I'm Lepis." Those words are firm and solid, as though they are the first ones we had exchanged. Neither of our first attempts had gone as we'd intended, so I think it might be best to pretend as though they'd not happened. I consider, briefly, sending out a thread of some comforting emotion, but decide against it. Instead I focus on pulling my wings back to my sides. The left tucks nicely and the right hangs crookedly, but it's clear from my body language at least that I don't plan on bolting out of this conversation after all.
The panic takes less than a heartbeat to subside and I am almost as quick at grabbing back to projection. It might have reached him for a millisecond, or it might have not quite reached him. I am firmly hoping for the latter, though there is no denying that I was thrown by his quick arrival. My wings have begun to droop from where they'd flared out, and I remind myself to take a deep breath.
"You startled me." I say, as though that was not obvious from the still-rapid beating of my heart. "I don't do well with being startled." There is neither an apology or an accusation in my tone, and the blue grey eyes with which I now watch him are only curious.
"I'm Lepis." Those words are firm and solid, as though they are the first ones we had exchanged. Neither of our first attempts had gone as we'd intended, so I think it might be best to pretend as though they'd not happened. I consider, briefly, sending out a thread of some comforting emotion, but decide against it. Instead I focus on pulling my wings back to my sides. The left tucks nicely and the right hangs crookedly, but it's clear from my body language at least that I don't plan on bolting out of this conversation after all.
