[private] all the blank spots left a mark

[Nemeon]

Time has little meaning for Nemeon, since he only experiences part of it. There is, by default, something a little nicer about the winter since he is awake for longer portions of the night, but now that spring is preparing to give way to summer he finds himself enjoying the warmer nights and seeing the flush of life that appears around this time of year. The spring and summer reminders that he is alone are gentler than the harshness of the winter ones. At least now there is movement and chatter around him as he leaves the forest behind.

The night is late, in just a few hours the sky will start to lighten and the birds will begin to awaken. He finds himself in want of being somewhere in the open, where he can watch the sky change into brilliant colours - even if he does not ever get to watch the full sun rise. So he makes his way to the river, where the spring moon glitters upon the moving water.

He has not forgotten his quest, though his hope around it waxes and wanes. He thought it would be so easy - finding someone with a light trait, when he lives his life in darkness the light should stand out and should draw him in.

But whether it is bad luck or just the pull of his morose existence dragging him down over the years so he foolishly does not take the opportunities he is given. For someone who is so deeply and thoroughly tired of being alone, it is sometimes the most difficult thing in the world to do anything about it.

A small "humpf" noise escapes Nemeon and he shakes his wings and neck out as if it's just as easy to shake off his own attitude as it is flies.

NEMEON

@Allaire

[Allaire]

i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland,
my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you

For some reason, Allaire cannot sleep tonight.

She is not sure what the reason for this restlessness is, but it feels like a nervous flutter in her chest, and racing thoughts that cannot quiet. She hates that she has been here for so long and that it still does not feel like home. She can no longer use the excuse of turmoil, as things have been quiet now for a long while, as if all the storms had finally blown themselves out. Things were, near as she could tell, back to normal — whatever normal for this place is.

Finally, she succumbs to the idea that she was going to be awake and set off into the night.
Her light follows her movements like a strange veil that trails behind her, but other than that she manages to remain undetected.

Or perhaps not undetected, but ignored, at the very least.
In this world full of pretty things it is easy for her to blend in, and tonight she doesn't mind that.

She is not sure how long she has been walking, only that it does not feel like very long at all. Her thoughts cause the time to pass quickly as she follows the riverbank, occasionally glancing sideways and noticing the way the silver of the stars reflect off the never-ending dark of the water, and the softened glow of her light blurring with them. Momentarily distracted she almost starts at the sudden sound of someone so close,  but when she sets her eyes on his face she instantly recognizes him. “Nemeon,” she says with a quiet delight, her voice hushed as if she might speak too loudly and shatter the night. “I wasn’t expecting to see you out here. How are you?” she asks him with a hopeful smile, oblivious to the idea that he might be in a poor mood.

Allaire

@Nemeon

[Nemeon]

The softness of Allaire’s voice draws Nemeon’s thoughts out of their sullen pit, if only temporarily. His golden eyes flash with genuine delight at seeing her again, matching her quiet voice - finding the whisper-volume appropriate as he takes the small joy in saying her name out loud in greeting. “Allaire.”

Her question, though absolutely not out of the ordinary whatsoever, causes him trouble. “I’m...” Nemeon’s ever-present desire to be polite so as to not chase away potential conversations wrestles with the reality of the mood that is wrapped around his throat. His hesitation stretches briefly before he answers. “I have had happier nights.” It’s acknowledging the truth without digging too far down into it. His smile is grim for an instant and then lightens as that good nature of his momentarily lands on top of sullenness. As he ignores the fact that the number of happier nights are actually, laughably, few.

“But it is a little brighter now that you are here.” A truth that is both literal and figurative. To him, the novelty of the trail of light that follows her makes it outshine the stars above.

And the novelty of not being alone? Allaire is an acquaintance, someone who knows the half-truth of the things that curse him, and it is too much for his heart to place so much hope and need on her presence but it is too late to try to backpeddle on that now. The weight of his loneliness drags at him, far heavier than the leathery wings at his side or the horns that grew with age to crown his face.

For just a few moments, he decides to grant himself grace from that deep rooted worry that he will cause pain and sickness on someone else and allow himself to be anchored in the present.

Right now, that means transferring his attention to his lovely companion - as he wonders whether the years have been any kinder to her than to him. “And you, Allaire? How are you?”

NEMEON

@Allaire

[Allaire]

i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland,
my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you

Her smile falters a little when she reads between the lines of the words that he says — that he’s had happier nights, meaning that this is not a good one, and things are likely not well. “I’m sorry,” she offers sympathetically, though she is unsure how much right she has to pry any further. While she naturally wants to consider him a friend, she recognizes that they hardly know each other, and that perhaps he does not want to relinquish his troubles to a virtual stranger.

She is accustomed to being that, though — a familiar face but not close enough to be a friend. The place to go for a smile or a kind word but not trusted with anything beyond surface level.

But it does not stop her from trying.

She wants to step closer to him, but there is something that keeps her rooted where she stands, an invisible barrier that she knows she should not push. “Is everything alright?” she ventures to ask, her brow furrowed just slightly with worry. “Maybe I can help,” she offers with a dim kind of hope. She knows she is likely not of much use; she is not especially intelligent or strong, and has no kind of magic that is truly useful. Just a pair of pretty wings and a light that follows her wherever she goes.

He diverts the topic to her and she lets him, though she still studies him carefully for what feels like a long moment before answering, “I’ve been fine, I suppose. Just a little…” she trails off, unsure what to say. Lonely didn’t feel right; lonely, to her, implied that she had something to miss, when in reality she didn’t. She had never had anyone or anything, nothing that was a constant. It didn’t feel possible to miss something you’d never had. “...quiet,” is what she settles on, since it is not a lie. Her life is quiet, if not a bit empty.

Allaire

@Nemeon

[Nemeon]

Nemeon does not know how to answer her question, and lets it fall aside, though he feels guilty for very obviously shifting the topic to her. Her answer is not any more optimistic than his own, and he does not know why this comforts him. He would like for her to have sunshine and a full life - but if she does not… perhaps he can keep her for a little while longer. If there is nothing to pull her too soon away from him. “I know all about quiet.” He admits to her, still in a whisper-quiet voice and his grief over this may as well be an answer to the previous question. “It has a weight to it, after a while.”

His golden eyes are not straying from her now. This kind mare who is halfway between a stranger and a friend.

And the desire to touch her rises up to his surface - overwhelming with the intensity of it and inspiring him to take a step closer to the gentle beauty of her, the sweetness of the kind words she offered to him so easily. The alarm bells that should sound are muffled by the solid force of his weakness, of his desire to have someone in his life. He would sell his soul for even the possibility of it, and what resistance could his logic and reason have against such a wish? When it has been almost two decades since he has tried to touch another.

It is so easy to give in. Just for one moment. It has been so long - his toxicity may have even faded away.

(A stupid hope, among dozens of other rationalizations swarming through his mind in these hushed moments)

He doesn’t reach out, just yet, but his muzzle moves slightly - a sign he is thinking about it. They are close enough now it would not take too much - and perhaps some twisted part of him even thinks he will be absolved of the guilt if it is her that bridges their gap. “You’re already doing so much to help, Allaire. Just by being here and interrupting my quiet.” There’s a small, sad smile to accompany these quiet and sincere words.

NEMEON

@Allaire

[Allaire]

i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland,
my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you

The shadows of his grief seem so evident that now she wonders how she has never seen them before. Has she truly been so self-absorbed to have missed something that he is now showing her so clearly? She has noticed before that a certain kind of melancholy seemed to follow him, clinging to him like a thin veil, but since she did not expect everyone to be brimming with happiness all the time she had not looked too hard at it.

She sees now though that there is a depth to his sadness that she had not realized; that it is not the sadness that comes with just a bad day, but the kind that is marrow-deep and long-lasting, and the guilt she feels at not seeing this sooner continues to grow. Their previous interaction turns over in her mind, searching for all the pieces that she has missed in some fruitless attempt to place them all together in a way that makes sense.

When she comes up with nothing, she decides to just be direct.

“Nemeon,” she ventures softly, worry clouding her light-colored eyes. “I know we may have not known each other for long, but if there’s something bothering you, you can tell me.” She pauses, matching his own step forward. This is the closest they have ever stood, and until now she had not wondered if that was strange — but now she finds herself thinking that perhaps he kept a distance because he did not want her close. This thought almost causes her to move back again, but afraid that he would take that as an insult she remains where she stands, resisting the strange urge that she suddenly has to gently touch him. “I promise that if it’s a secret, I won’t tell anyone.”

Allaire

@Nemeon