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@[thorn]
Beqanna
Assailant -- Year 226
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
love was a country we couldn't defend, thorn
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09-02-2019, 06:13 PM
@[thorn] It is strange how Thorn has always felt like he does and does not belong equally. Living amongst his rambunctious sibling has left him with a happy heart, but not a full one, and he wonders what lives beyond the loving family that keeps him warm at night. Are there those out there that wish to leave him cold? Or those that wish to be the campfire to his cold winter’s night? The two year old smiles sweetly to himself, chin tucked shyly to his chest. It seems as if the world wishes to make him moody, but not a single shadow can blight the glow on his face. Thorn has kind eyes and a gentle step, even when furiously driven by his curious and hungry heart. As he steps from the comfort of his family’s nest in Tephra, he gets the sense that it is time he leaves for good; it is not that he feels he cannot come home, but that he is riding a year old, and it may be time to find a nook of his own. The river arrives on that warm thought, a dreamy tilt of his head leading his eyes skyward. He hardly notices the girl when he collides with her. Only when he rears back in embarrassment does he fully see her. His heart skitters in his chest, both from shame and surprise at such a graceful face. “You didn’t need to,” he blurts, then shakes his head. He takes a step back, peering at her with panic that slowly fades to wonder. “What - uh - what were you doing in the water?” he stutters, feeling the blush in his cheeks harshen. thorn under your skin, over the moon don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh
09-19-2019, 08:14 PM
10-13-2019, 05:54 PM
Thorn is a clumsy creature, one that stumbles over his words just as much as he stumbles over his legs. His lack of tact is made up for with the wild gleam of his smile and the roguish glint in his eyes. There is a feral boy deep inside of him, a handsome boy—a horse that draws upon the wolffish instincts he was born into. His mother taught him love, though—and his siblings taught him patience—and that untamed being snowballed down a mountain of unbidden, rosy love. The girl before Thorn reminds him of that warm love Wonder has always freely given. She holds that same fire his mother does, a kindness and a ferocity of equal strengths. His heart skips a beat when her gaze meets his—mostly because he has never had a girl look at him the way she is looking at him, but also because her secretive eyes seem depthless in their curiosity. Thorn’s mouth widens to match Prayer’s grin because he cannot help himself: such life is so infectious. Aware that there is little space between them now that the girl has settled next to him, Thorn holds his breath and catches glimpses of her face from the corner of his eye. He realizes all too late that her mischievous has gone unanswered, and he blurts out on the breath he is holding, “Well, let’s find out!” The colt then launches himself into the frigid water without a thought for his health, immediately regretting his decision as the icy temperature numbs his legs and underbelly. He peers back Prayer awkwardly, timid eyes glistening and remorseful. thorn under your skin, over the moon don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh
10-13-2019, 07:31 PM
Her laugh is like a first spring bloom: colorful and so startling in bravery that it steals one’s breath. Thorn thinks she can melt even the thickest snow if she tries, with the way the sun orbits around her giggling. In his childish naivety, he falls, tumbling endlessly into blue of Prayer’s eyes. It is the cheesy whispers of romance that tickle the colt’s ears when he stares blankly at his new companion, smile sweet but empty. He is thinking of everything but reality: of brushing his muzzle abashedly across her cheek or warming himself with the close proximity of her body heat. All innocent thoughts, ones so perfect they can only exist in the genuine kindness of a youth’s mind. Alas, Thorn is shy, and all these picturesque fantasies go up in flame when he stiffens at Prayer’s touch. The unwitting failure of a boy’s inexperience: doing the exact opposite of what he desires. The way his face lights up and rises to her orders is like the tide follows the moon: inevitable and certain. “Okay!” he chirps in response, without even a thought of what he might want to do. The water surges against his legs and he stumbles on the uneven ground, but ultimately finds himself in the shallows, facing Prayer. “Uh . . .” Thorn mumbles out before bashfully turning his head to the side. His wings ruffle uncomfortably against his sides, a brief distraction from the way his heart pounds. “I’m Thorn.” This he states confidently before dragging his gaze back up to Prayer’s. “And I like you, too! What’s your name, though?” He grins like a fool, that boyish charm hidden deep within finding a special gleam in his teeth. thorn under your skin, over the moon don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh I wrote this while high please enjoy the typos and incoherency
10-15-2019, 02:33 PM
10-16-2019, 12:42 AM
His name feels so special come out of her mouth. There is nothing like that first crush, at least to those not jaded enough to feel it. Thorn has had the luck so many wish they had: such a warm upbringing that this feeling blooming in his chest has ample room to grow. He feels it chase adrenaline through his veins and envelop all of his senses. Infatuation and discovery weave the stickiest of webs, and the winged colt is a more than willing victim. Of course, Prayer is his spider, but she only wraps him in that innocent obsession of youth. Thorn briefly wonders if she feels as enamored as he, and he draws his head back in contemplation. A stormy look passes across his eyes, but it is quickly wiped away by the sound of his name in her girlish voice. “Prayer,” he parrots back, savoring the way it tastes just as she did. He smiles a smile so dopey that even he can feel its goofiness. “Don’t look away! I like the way you look at me.” This he adds as if it the most normal thing to say. Water splashes into the snow when Thorn finally steps out. He visibly shivers against the cold air, tucking his monotone wings tightly against his sides. “I’m f-freezing.” He pauses because of his chattering teeth. “Maybe we should find somewhere warm.” The way he doesn’t even think Prayer won’t accompany is so pure, as if this is just another adventure with an old pal. He smiles and nudges her neck, then demands, “Come on!” thorn under your skin, over the moon don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh @[prayer]
10-16-2019, 02:32 PM
10-18-2019, 10:58 PM
Thorn remembers the sun he woke to everyday as a child. There were days that he relaxed beneath five feet long elephant ear leaves, watching rain drip from the overhead greenery as if he had nothing better to do. He was a relaxed boy, one that rarely found his heart racing; instead, that love of his only grew and grew until it felt as if his heart would burst from his chest— His heart is magic, that rush of love and dopamine extra potent. He feels like magic incarnate when Prayer’s eyes come back to his. The grin on his lips is made of pure sunlight. A burning thrum builds in his chest. Snow is white and only an inch deep when the pair set off. Thorn’s hooves kick up the light dusting, mixing dark brown dirt with the blinding ivory and sharp clarity of ice. As he runs he begins to warm, the working of his muscles sending the smallest amount of steam into the air. When he grows tired of their running, he comes to a sliding halt, dipping beneath a low-hanging branch to peer at the stark black of Prayer. The desire to take her to his home is sudden and overwhelming—he can’t get the idea of her smiling face looking up to meet Wonder’s out of his head. And his siblings! They would surely love her, too. Yes, he thinks, I should invite her home. “Hey, Prayer . . .” he calls with a cheeky grin. “Do you wanna come home with me? You’d love my siblings. We’re just a big happy family.” His heart swells, literally, as he imagines how she’ll fit in like a missing piece of a puzzle. thorn under your skin, over the moon don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do roses are fallin', roses from fallin' for you, ooh @[prayer] | |||||
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