He had been brought up in a land of smiles and magic. That is all he remembers, watching them, and how they used to stand side by side, his reasonably silent father and his completely silent mother. They had been a simple family, perhaps in more ways then one, and Tommin’s life had been a wonderful combination go imagination and reality. He was a child who wanted knowledge and the fates had gone out of their way to deny him it. He could not ask his mother questions because she could not answer him, and his father’s limited vocabulary and lack of hearing made their conversations short and simple. His father could say his mother’s name, he could say Tommin, and he could say other words like danger, run, hide, and love. But he could not explain to the pale sandy colt why the sky turning from a light summer blue to a dark and resentful night. He could not tell him why the stars twinkled or why their friend the moon was not always there to join them. And nor could he tell the little colt why a rainbow perhaps one of the most beautiful things the little boy had ever seen.
He could not explain to Tommin why he and his mother left him. He could not say anything other than goodbye, and with a smile and a touch to the young boy’s pale shoulder they left him. Tommin had stood there mute, in the open in this strange land, for a while, lips pressed firmly together until realization kicked in. His mother and his father had moved on, on from him, and perhaps their time spent together. They had left Tommin to his own fate, although this was no cruel act of abandonment. It was a chance, an opportunity, and when Tommin realizes this, he cannot help but smile, bright and beautiful, lighting up his eyes of glacial blue.
Perhaps he would one day touch the stars.
The glistened silently above his head, every night, the only source of light when the world was plunged into darkness. Tommin knows they will return again tonight. He wonders about this new land, will there still be butterflies to chase? Will there be deer to find, silent in the trees? Will there be flowers to smell? For now, his new world is silent, at it is bathed in new winter snow.
It was no time for someone to be out on their own. But in the comforting hands of the meadow, Tommin stood, resting his sore hooves, he was so very tired from all of his walking. There were others here, Tommin could see them, wandering about in the sunshine of winter. Although he had thought it wise to venture a little further from the large groups. They could be dangerous, and in the poorer months of winter, one could never tell. He breathes out a sigh, lowering his head to the ground and letting his muzzle touch against the cold ground, tiny cupped flutes atop his head, twitching for any sign of a sound.
T O M M I N
{ Run and live fast as we can, throw your clothes and cares behind you to the wind. }
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The yearling mind-reader cannot but help to feel so bland amongst the rainbow of Beqanna. It seems as if everywhere she looks, there is a better and brighter creature to outmatch her. She is sullen, miserable, but not defeated. What she does possess, is far greater than those that shine brighter than the pale of her blue roan coat. Soleil has secrets, so many and delicious secrets - little gems she tucks into the back of her mind to whip out whenever she so desires.
All the sweet treasures of a mind reader, yes - they dangle like God’s delectable forbidden fruit, and Soleil the ever malicious Eve.
The horses that litter the meadow chitter and chat incoherent babble. The yearling ignores them all with an irate flick of her ear, pale eyes flitting from face to boring face. Even the ones prettier than her are terribly boring. Her gaze alights on a quiet boy, dunskin coat shimmering beneath the winter sun. Soleil shivers against the cool breeze and a new mind to pick through. His pretty blue eyes match the thoughts that pass behind his gaze. The filly smiles.
She sidles up to him with a murmured, “Don’t like crowds, huh?” There is nothing but friendliness in her soft gaze, a perfect mask for the information she plucks right from his mouth. She bends to lip at the grass as well, then whispers, “Me neither.”
she is still very new to me, sorry D: @[Tommin]
07-14-2019, 05:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-14-2019, 05:53 PM by Thales.)
The boy is too sensitive, too soft and vulnerable to really exist in this world and thrive as the monsters around him seem to. He is fragile like the silver dust of a butterfly’s wings and delicate as ancient crystal needles in long forgotten caves – a simple touch, meant to admire and caress, could easily destroy him. Joy ignites his heart and happiness floods his veins. He is a boy that belongs to the earth and the trees, he flourishes in the sun and grows colorful and bright beneath its rays. He is a child of the world. The grass calls him as the wind runs its fingers through it. With sparkling crystalline blue eyes as bright as the sky.
Tommin has shallow roots, no long distinguished list of great names that he can rattle off from the top of his head. His tiny family made a home on new soil and he had never heard his father speak much of the past and his silent mother had been unable to. It was the present, the time spent together right now that captured their attention as well as his. It was the first time Tommin truly looked out over the horizon with glacier blue eyes and saw something not quite reachable that his adventurous spirit had awoken.
There is something beautiful about him. Something wide-eyed and innocent, like a deer.
He smiles no matter his mood, and his eyes sparkle with delight at the simplest things.
She looks wonderful, or maybe Tommin is simply so happy that he can't see through the haze of of his own light. A new friend awaits him. So he likes to think. Tommin comes from a simple family devoid of magic, he knows not the secrets that float within another’s chest, powers harvested by magic or inheritance. He knows he has his mother’s eyes, but he knows little else.
He watches this new comer with keen eyes, eyes that do not judge at all, but only dance with a ignorant curiosity. “You don't like crowds?” He asks the girl who has come to join him on this winter’s day. “I haven't been around crowds much,” he offers nothing but the truth. His family had often traveled their own way, other herds not having much use for a deaf and mute couple with their child tagging along at their heels. “Maybe I would like them,” he says, voicing his thoughts aloud, having little use or room for secrets and hidden thoughts. Tommin offers only himself to others, his only thing to give. “What’s your name?” He asks the girl. “Are you from the meadow too?” He asks, not knowing there are so many lands beyond where he stands now, because there is a great wide world out there that Tommin will never see. “Why don't you like crowds?” His curiosity burning under his skin. For so long he has been denied asking many questions that he thinks since this girl can speak and hear, perhaps the universe would provide him with something. “Have you tried them before?” Because you never really know, he thinks, ever the optimistic child.
T O M M I N
{ Run and live fast as we can, throw your clothes and cares behind you to the wind. }
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@[soleil]
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