09-15-2018, 10:30 PM
it’s easy to lean against him. The motion is familiar and comforting, and I breathe deeply the familiar earthy smell of the dappled stallion. Arthas is a rare constant in my life, and I am immensely grateful to be once more in frequent contact. I’d missed him while I was in Hyaline, and often thought of him and our son, Delta. I smile to myself at the thought of the buckskin colt, and tug gently at a bit of bramble caught in the king’s inky forelock.
For a moment I forget that we are in Sylva.
It comes rushing back when he pulls away, and the intricate pattern of grey dapples I’d been focused on becomes brilliant red and gold. I blink with surprise, and by the time my vision adjusts, Arthas is asking about Sylva.
”It’s fine.” I tell him with a navy smile, my blue-grey eyes covered briefly with a blink of dark lashes. I consider telling him about how I feel, about the constant state of indecision I dwell within. I consider asking him why Rey has come to Sylva and if she’ll be bearing him another foal come spring. I consider all these possibilities, and I decide against them. He had asked how Sylva was, after all. Not how I felt about Sylva. My responsibility is to keep Arthas happy, and he will be happy if I make him so. I’ve thoughtlessly spread contentment into the air, tainted the space around me in an attempt to control my own emotions. I realize this just as I am pulling away, and so I add:
“There aren’t many familiar faces.” The worst of them I had known would be gone. Modicum Mortem, the monster that had broken my wings and my spirit. The woods seem lighter with him gone, though I suspect that is something only I would notice. I’ve not seen anyone I know, truly. Not the fox girl or the pond creature, nor the lavender cream pegasus. Arthas and Delta are the two faces most familiar, though Mary and her mother are becoming more familiar as well.
“What are the plans for Sylva?” I ask him, shifting my hindquarters to better press myself against his warm side. It is no colder here than Loess, though Sylva lacks the hot springs that I love so much. These days I am always cold, and know that Arthas won’t mind the feel of me pressed against him.
For a moment I forget that we are in Sylva.
It comes rushing back when he pulls away, and the intricate pattern of grey dapples I’d been focused on becomes brilliant red and gold. I blink with surprise, and by the time my vision adjusts, Arthas is asking about Sylva.
”It’s fine.” I tell him with a navy smile, my blue-grey eyes covered briefly with a blink of dark lashes. I consider telling him about how I feel, about the constant state of indecision I dwell within. I consider asking him why Rey has come to Sylva and if she’ll be bearing him another foal come spring. I consider all these possibilities, and I decide against them. He had asked how Sylva was, after all. Not how I felt about Sylva. My responsibility is to keep Arthas happy, and he will be happy if I make him so. I’ve thoughtlessly spread contentment into the air, tainted the space around me in an attempt to control my own emotions. I realize this just as I am pulling away, and so I add:
“There aren’t many familiar faces.” The worst of them I had known would be gone. Modicum Mortem, the monster that had broken my wings and my spirit. The woods seem lighter with him gone, though I suspect that is something only I would notice. I’ve not seen anyone I know, truly. Not the fox girl or the pond creature, nor the lavender cream pegasus. Arthas and Delta are the two faces most familiar, though Mary and her mother are becoming more familiar as well.
“What are the plans for Sylva?” I ask him, shifting my hindquarters to better press myself against his warm side. It is no colder here than Loess, though Sylva lacks the hot springs that I love so much. These days I am always cold, and know that Arthas won’t mind the feel of me pressed against him.
