"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
Seirath’s figure was an anomaly of breeding. It was impossible to tell, with certainty, which races had given him his powerful limbs and chest, his lithe, graceful movement, his strength and height. Only his features; eloquently chiseled from the rich, burnished bay of his body smacked of anything in particular, for his face was unmistakably Arabian, though maybe a little fuller, and he carried it as such. This was not the only sign of a life sparked in brilliance and still waxing with the light and promise of youth. No, there were many others: the determined, unwavering manner of his steps spoke of confidence, the deliberate arrangement of his features of intelligence, the carefully contained laughter in the smoky glass of his iris of a personable nature. But even these were eclipsed by the undrawn force beneath his skin. The solemn, unflinching equanimity that pulsed through him. A force, it seemed, he had not yet tapped, which had no purpose but in its own waiting.
Above him the sun bled its finale into the clouds; concluding the wrath the day had inflicted on the restless world beneath. He stood still as the sun sunk wearily from the horizon, his eyes enmeshed in the play of light through the atmosphere. As the colour drained from the realm above him, so too did it drain from the cure of his shoulder and the length of his flank. The burnished gold of the day turned to a rich, dark bay like the coals of doused flame, fading to black coal at his neck and feet. His profile was elegant against the pale green of the skyline, and indistinct against the navy velvet that hung impatiently above it. There was a slight give to his posture as the sun tucked itself behind the edge of the world, like resignation, and unmistakable even to a casual eye. His eyes looked after the path of the sun, the expression on his guarded face almost wistful. His breath, visible in the gathering chill, clung in warm ghostly tendrils to his mouth and nose.
She is gone, his shadow, fled in her immaculate perversion as the night reached its apex, to blossom in the darkness that was her own until the sun called upon her again. He was bereft without her, but a few hours had been enough to separate him from the quivering, panic-stricken parent he had been when he had crossed into this world. It was still there, probably less well contained than it appeared, but it was in order now, and it was not betrayed in the slate glass of his eyes. Without her he was rougher, stronger – the grace and flippant whimsy of her was gone from him as well, and left him somber and sober – with only the harshest poetry in the ring of his foot to the shadowed earth. He felt all of this keenly as the evening descended above him, and felt instantly alien to himself. As though he had happened to glimpse himself in a mirror and found too much had changed.
As though to turn his inner eye from this unflattering imagery he turned his head, glancing around himself. Someone had told him that this was another open gathering place, like the nearby Forest, and he had opted to start here while the light held out and he could still see across the length of it easily. But that was more than an hour ago, and now it was night, and continuing to search in a strange land in the dark was not logical. So he was resigned. Resigned to waiting for the morning. Resigned to a sleepless night in this strange land, surrounded by strangers. Just then a ripple of gold, reflecting a wayward slant of sunlight or an early flash of moon, caught his eye and something like hope stirred in his breast, but as he pulled the swatch of colour into focus, forced his eyes to pay attention, it was clear that this was not Alayaya. Though it was a palomino, this was definitely not a child, but a mare.
She was passing along a reasonably worn track near to where he was standing among the shorn clover. In retrospect, he would never be sure what had made him speak up – perhaps it was the fleeting resemblance to the missing filly that drew him, or perhaps just the weariness of his sudden solitude in her absence. It had been a long time since he had craved the company of other horses, but the Alayaya’s loss felt suffocating. It was instinct, not deliberate thought, and before she had passed completely by him he said “Good evening,” in the steady, warm voice he had forgotten he owned, and bowed his head with faultless deference. He said no more, because the deliberate thought caught up with his impulse and he realized it was late, and she was likely on her way home, and so should be afforded the opportunity to politely pass him by.
Basically, she was alone, tired, and didn’t know how or where to go to to rectify either of those situations. As the sun melted slowly down the canvas of the sky, Naira ripped her long, thin legs decisively (though she didn’t yet know what she had decided) through the long meadow grasses. She stopped and stood for a moment, allowing the golden warmth of the sun that had so long ago bleached her mane and tail to soak into a soft coat that mirrored the color held by that draining sun.
Unlike many of those that had come before her in her old herd, she was almost purely Lusitano; the purity of her Spanish blood was unparalleled, and obvious in her appearance. Her long legs and gracefully curving neck led into narrow shoulders and a tapered midsection. She was pretty. That’s all she had ever been to anyone. She had never been clever or strong or kind.
Only ever pretty.
Naira really didn’t know what to do anymore; she had tried to make a home and a life with Kreios, but that world, that home was gone. Lost to the archives of her memory. Brisk winter air that Beqanna had recently fallen prey to constricted around her, breaking her from thoughts of the Orange Country and the Desert. The blanket of frost that had recently settled found a home on her on her back and the chill hanging in the air permeated through her warm coat and into her bones, stiffening them in their unwelcome ingress. As the last of the winter sun’s warmth was leached from the sky, a voice with an equally enveloping heat reached her ears.
Her attention was drawn away from the beaten trail she was walking to the stallion that had called out to her; the one that she had subsequently failed to notice until he had spoken. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so unobservant in the company of strangers, but she was so lost in her own thoughts that the voice startled a gasp from her chest and triggered a few quick steps of alarm. Realizing that the stallion's eyes held none of the malice that she had anticipated, Naira forced herself to take deep breaths and calm herself.
In, and out.
In, and out.
Finally, after her narrow sides had stretched and compressed with her deep breaths, she moved forward towards the source of the voice, retracing her skittered steps away from him.
An awkward laugh escaped her mouth and an embarrassed flush bloomed across her fair cheeks and down her white tipped nose. Big brown doe eyes traced the bulky, powerful frame of the stallion before returning to his strange grey blue eyes. A smile touched her thin lips, “I’m so sorry,” she began, “You surprised me.” She dipped her head shallowly in greeting. She angled herself towards the stallion, interested in a stranger for the first time in a very long time. “I’m Naira.”
naira
we'll be dancing in the kitchen in the pale moonlight
It sucks, I'm sorry but it's late and I had AP exams all day so my brain is mushy. I promise they won't all be this bad
He watched her step quickly off the path away from him in alarm and casually took a step backward himself, offering the security of a safer distance from which to judge his intentions. He didn’t speak into the startled wake of his initial pronouncement, but rather waited for her to collect herself. The stillness and patience of his frame belied the tension and anxiety that had roosted beneath the surface all day. The colour of his skin was warm in the rapidly fading halo of the set sun to their west, a light sheen of rapidly cooling sweat at shoulder and hock brightening him against the growing darkness around them.
He took a moment to observe her. The pale gold of her coat was like a halo, drawing the rest of the light left in the air against her skin like light silk. It was almost like looking at a mirage, hard to tell exactly where the curves and lines of her really ended. There was something about her. She may have been the only one within earshot, but there was more than proximity that had called out to him. Something was missing for her, just as it was for him. The stars were not yet visible above them in this hour between the sun falling below the horizon and losing the last of its light from the sky. The darkness was progressing to that peak just before the starlight would shine through it. There was no moon in the sky tonight. A new moon for this new chapter of his life. Indescribably, and intangibly, he already recognized a subtle shift in the direction of his life. What had seemed aimless wandering, steered by his whim and his will, seemed in retrospect a clear and forged path. Unconsciously, he was already resigned to Beqanna and a new beginning, he could sense that finding Alayaya would not be the conclusion of their venture into this strange world.
The wind, as if on cue, picked up around them now that the sun was set completely. It gusted briskly into the space between them as it rolled out across the meadow. He became acutely aware that his skin was damp. He mirrored her step toward him to avoid shivering. A smile crept briefly across his lips in mirror of hers. He had pliable features, and they were striving to be attentive and warm tonight. The cool slate of his eyes was still touched by the emptiness he was feeling, but the old embers of affability were stirring in them too.
”I’m sorry I startled you Naira,” he said, “my name is Seirath. I don’t mean to detain you if you are in a hurry – it is late.” He smiled again, and the smile was like a mask – pretending nonchalance – a charade so he could continue to avoid the fact: he desperately didn’t want to be alone. He could have borne it, if he had to, he had borne worse, but he would do anything to step away from the edge of that abyss for now.
“Were you on your way home?” He asked, buying a few more moments of her company.
05-12-2017, 10:47 PM (This post was last modified: 05-13-2017, 12:10 AM by Naira.)
The eyes are the window to the soul. Thats what they always say, isn’t it? Well, it was what her mother always told her anyways. In those of the stranger before her she saw an empty affability that seemed to somehow contradict itself. He watched her in her panic, not encroaching on her space and keeping a comforting distance.
As the ink of the night stained the sky above him, she squinted her eyes in an attempt to better pick out his dark features against the equally dark backdrop. The damp glistening of sweat kissing his shoulder and leg reflecting off the light of the moon were her only real clues as to his whereabouts. He took a graceful, calculated step forward and a smile swept the corners of his lips. His long, handsome face softened and warmed towards her, and that pesky blush that she was always trying so hard to get rid of appeared yet again and stained her golden cheeks.
She crept unconsciously towards him, her chilled body seeking the heat that she assumed he could provide. In the short amount of time that they had been standing there, the chill in the air had already dampened her coat, darkening it from it’s normal pastel gold to a shade that more closely resembled brown, and she had started to shiver lightly.
“Seriath…” she whispers, tasting the way his name fell off of her tongue before shaking her head, perhaps a bit too vehemently, at his next words, “It, was my own fault, I was in my own little world,” a giggle escaped her pale lips at a joke that she determined did not yet need to be told. His same smile never wavered, although it did seem to become a bit more forced the longer he waited for her answer.
She shook her head once more, less forceful this time as some of the same emptiness she felt radiating off of him spilled over the deep brown of her eyes. “Home…” she didn’t know what to say. If she said she was homeless, would she be a pariah in this new and strange version of Beqanna? Maybe with some, but she felt a kindred spirit in Seriath and decided she would rather face the potential judgement than lie to someone she had only just met. She squared her narrow shoulders and met his light charcoal eyes. “Home is not a place I have had in my life in quite a while,” She stated smoothly. A meek smile touched her mouth, “In truth, I was only trying to find somewhere safe to sleep for the night."
naira
we'll be dancing in the kitchen in the pale moonlight
He was relieved when she stepped toward him, and was aware of a knot of tension in his shoulders unwinding a little. His body still emanated heat; vital, still young and hale as he was, his body rose easily to the challenge of a winter evening. On the other hand, the sweat quickly freezing on his skin made him feel unnaturally cold this evening. He didn’t mind the chill, himself. He had been accustomed to cold, bitter salty air in the past and had spent far too long of late on scorching desert hellscapes. The change and the bracing air were welcome, as, was Naira’s gentle if melancholy presence.
Conventionally, horses were social animals. They congregated, established hierarchies, compromised and lived alongside each other because the alternative was solitude, and uncertain survival. Seirath had travelled widely. Very widely. He had rarely met members of his species who were comfortable being homeless. Home, in their coding, meaning herd, family, and allies – and occasionally physical places. He didn’t need the brave smile or the slightly over-bright tone of Naira’s voice to know that it pained her in some way to declare this homelessness to him. Her reticence to admit it, so eloquently overcome in her delivery and her steady gaze in his, was not lost on him. Ironically, this admission wins only favorable judgement from the bay stallion. Seirath mistrusted everyone, generally, and mistrusted them more when they were all together than when they were on their own. The honesty was refreshing, and reassured him yet further in her company. He was predisposed by the circumstances to find common ground with the lovely, pale gold stranger but he was finding this common ground more accessible than he would have imagined.
For all his practice of solitary living that inborn social understanding still drove him to shift his weight slightly, sidle in and turn his body slightly to shield the slighter frame against that sudden draft. The snow began to brighten on the ground around them, picking up and amplifying the faint starlight far overhead, phosphorescent and ephemeral.
His own smile stretched a little more earnestly into his face, subconscious instinct to put her at ease meeting the conscious eloquence of his lips and eyes. There was a shared understanding in his eyes that would have made it almost redundant for him to say me too. He glanced from her into the surrounding darkness, eyebrows briefly raised in wary appraisal. The stormy gray of his irises gathering the light reflected from her fair skin, and thrown thriftily from the emerging starlight as they slid easily back into hers. “Is this a dangerous place?” He had a sincere interest in the answer – the little golden filly was alone somewhere out here, in this strange country – but in Naira’s presence found it hard to believe in a terrible threat.
“I would be happy to walk with you, to wherever it is you have in mind. I,” he paused. His eyes escaped from hers again - the unconcealed truth of the next words unusual for him, and uncomfortable on his tongue. “would be grateful for the company. I’ve got a bit of a missing person situation, and I think it will be hard to sleep out here on my own.”
Seirath - maharion
OOC: ugh. I was hoping this would turn out better, but I didn't want you to wait too long!
05-16-2017, 11:29 AM (This post was last modified: 05-16-2017, 12:40 PM by Naira.)
Relief flashed in Seriath’s blue grey eyes at her simple step in his direction, and Naira realized then that there wasn’t much she wouldn't do to witness that simple emotion rest briefly in his eyes. The brisk air was mercilessly pounding them, reaffirming that they indeed needed to find somewhere to bed down for the night. Seriath shifted his larger frame in an attempt to block her narrow one from the wind that was accosting them. She tossed a grateful smile towards the large bay before moving even closer in an attempt both to make what he was trying to do easier as well as her slightly greedier motive to soak up as much heat possible from his body. She pressed a slight shoulder into him and looked up curiously, “Is this okay?” she questioned, not wanting to impress upon any boundaries he may have.
The smile resting on his face lost its strained quality and became more and more genuine with every moment that passed. She saw some of herself reflected in him, and for some reason this put her instantly at ease. His attention fell from her momentarily and she watched him scan the Meadow quickly, searching for the reasons behind her anxious words. His light eyes met her dark ones once more, and he sent an equally nervous question back to her.
The difficulty was in answering it.
“Well…” she began, not quite sure where to start, "It didn’t used to be. And honestly, I’m not sure if it truly is, even now. All I know is that since the last time I was here things have changed. This place is darker. Whether or not that means its dangerous, I’m not sure. But I’m not one to take chances on those things. So here we are.” She shrugged golden shoulders, and offered a sheepish smile. Maybe she was being silly, but maybe she wasn’t.
She perked up at his next words, abnormally grateful to not be alone any longer. As he spoke, he broke eye contact momentarily as if the amount truth that lived in his words was uncomfortable for him to admit, perhaps even to himself. She tossed her pale nose to a nearby patch of trees that spared the ground beneath them from being blanketed in the late winter snow. “Perhaps just over there? I was thinking of going to the Forest, but it would be rather difficult to see the path at this time of night.”
Her eyes widened in concern when he spoke of his ‘missing person situation.’ “Oh my…anything I can help with?"
naira
we'll be dancing in the kitchen in the pale moonlight
She came in closer. He was enveloped suddenly in the smell of her, light, sweet, out of keeping with the frigid season and calling up imagery of new green life. The feel of her shoulder against his surprised him a little, as though he were waking to it, but he did not withdraw from it – realigning himself instead alongside her to bring her out of the wind. The difference made by a few inches was surprising – her warmth, or his reflecting back from her – made the winter chill almost pleasantly bearable. “Fine.” he said, softly.
He eyed the small copse of trees that she indicated. Not a bad choice, from what was available; there was enough evergreen in the small stand of trees to make a windscreen on one side, enough cover overhead in case it snowed again. Placing himself on the outside he could close off most of the open space, and their shared body heat would be massively better than the solo vigil he had been expecting. He nodded his agreement.
He shifted his weight a little, easing cold muscles back into motion, and moved toward the trees with a slow first step, pulling his chin into his chest against another gust of wind and giving Naira time to fall into step with him. Anything I can help with? He shook his head, and caught a sigh before it had a chance to slip past his lips, saying instead “I don’t think so.” His tone was brusquer than it had been so far; the coldness more accessible and comfortable than the anxiety he was concealing. He smiled an apology, trying to lessen the sharpness of his voice after the fact, catching up her warm brown eyes in his. Honesty, Seirath? Maybe try that?
“I’ve been travelling with a child that I’m…” there was a pause while he waited for the right words to come to mind “responsible for. Looks a little like you, actually, bright and pretty. But much smaller. She snuck away last night before I woke up. It was easy to follow her into this place but…” he trailed off. One set of footprints and the smell of her had been easy to track until there were too many other horses nearby. Now those things were buried in a haystack of trails, footprints, smells and altogether too many new identities. “I’m sure she’s fine.” he finished, the optimism just a little bit forced.
They walked in step together and every once in a while, Seirath would feel the brush of Naira’s shoulder against his, or his tail would brush the back of her leg as they shared the short trek across the dusted clover. The experience was alien to him. He could barely recall being so physically close to someone (apart from the filly). Even so, it did not feel alien at all.
Introspective, feeling the time passing more slowly than it really was, he looked for a way to cover over the moment. Seirath had always had an interesting relationship with the truth; he had been taught and honed not to lie, but not to tell the whole truth, either. His general distrust of others had only heightened that instinct over time. He was too anxious to be truly charming, which was the usual deflection he employed when the conversation got too personal, but he also didn’t feel that he would need any charm.
He did, however, circle back to what she had said before. “You know, or” he corrected himself “you have known Beqanna well, then? You are from here?” He laid his eyes in hers with sincere but unprepossessing curiosity. He found himself intensely interested in her answers.
Fine, he had said softly, but shortly, catching her slightly off guard. She was about to move away from him, under the impression that the light pressure of her shoulder against his was unwelcome before he nodded his consent and began to walk slowly over to the grotto of trees she had mentioned.Though she was slightly confused, Naira shook the life back into her cold, tired bones and fell into step beside Seriath, having to lengthen her strides to even come close to matching his.
He offered her only yet another curt answer at her question, and the mare dropped her eyes to the ground, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to pry,” she said quietly, her soft voice drowned out nearly entirely by the gusting wind. She kept her eyes off of his for a moment, determined to not annoy him any more that she seemingly already had, however it wasn’t long before her mind lost the battle with her heart and she flicked her gentle brown eyes to his cool grey once more. The somewhat sheepish and sincere smile that touched upon his lips infected her own, and before she knew it she was smiling like a fool.
She sucked in a breath as he spoke of the child that he had lost, his own, perhaps? But this train of thought was quickly derailed at his next words.
He thought she was pretty?
A rosy blush kissed her cheeks. Dammit Naira, she thought to herself, don’t be such a mare. This mental self admonishment however did nothing to stop the blush from spreading. She had never had this reaction to being called pretty before, and why it was happening now she didn’t know.
She cleared her throat, trying desperately to grasp onto the final threads of what seemed to be an important thought for him to share. From the words her busy mind was able to process, she caught on to his nonverbal meaning; the child had been unable to be tracked with all of the mingling scents of the other horses around Beqanna. His forced confidence betrayed just how worried he was, something that bothered Naira, though she didn’t quite know why. She paused briefly and touched her nose to his dark neck, hoping to somehow comfort him, “Truly, I’m sure she is fine. Though there are some less than friendly people in Beqanna, I sincerely doubt anyone would harm a child without quite a bit of provocation,” she provided a tentative smile, wanting desperately to alleviate some of the worry and tension h his eyes and in his broad shoulders.
They walked in silence for a while, every now and then a sideways step causing one of them to bump into the other. It was strange for her; no longer being alone of afraid of every twig that snapped or every bush that rustled. And she had to admit, she didn’t mind the comfort, both physical and mental, that the stallion provided for her. It was as though the silence paired with their proximity made him too uncomfortable to let slide, and Seriath was soon filling the void with casual conversation.
She see-sawed her golden head back and forth, “Well…yes and no. I wasn’t born here, but I came when I was about four. I had a home here, for a while, but it wasn’t enough and I left. And when I returned a short while ago, well, I already told you, things were different. My old home was gone. I had nowhere to go.”
She smiled gently, hoping to reassure him that this subject was not a sore one for her and didn’t need to be danced around. They reached the cropping of trees, and she stretched once, elongating her back and hearing her spine pop as she did. Another smile touched her lips, “So, do you want to take shifts sleeping on the outside? Or I can for the night, I really don’t mind,” she stated happily. After all, even having his body heat was more than she ever could have hoped for going into this evening. She yawned widely, suddenly very ready for sleep as a bone tired weariness took over her. She folded her long legs beneath her, laying so that Seriath had space between her and the trunk of the largest tree. This was, after all, her idea. He shouldn’t be expected to sleep with his back against the unforgiving winter air. “Maybe in the morning,” she said around peppered yawns, “We can go look for this filly of yours,” she offered, smiling sleepily as the image of the stallion became smaller and smaller through the slits of her drooping eyelids.
naira
we'll be dancing in the kitchen in the pale moonlight
He felt the reassuring touch of her mug at his neck and – surprising to himself – actually felt reassured for the first time since he and the little filly had been separated. He smiled the tight smile of a parent who understands that this is probably true, but can’t help but hold on to the – mostly – irrational fear. She was not his daughter, and they had been together only a few short months, but she had long since become his responsibility. He had many failings as a guardian, and tended to treat her like her own independent being rather than a child who needed boundaries. Which, come to think of it, was probably why she thought she was her own independent being and felt no compunction to tell him where she was off to.
He listened with sincere interest to her – brief – summary of her dispossessed history. He found he had more questions ready – wanted to know more about why, and how. He was encouraged by her tone and saw that it would not press his luck too far to ask. However, they had reached their destination and the subject changed to practical matters.
He was shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. A Don’t be silly headshake that was not so subtly saying I will take the outside, I insist. “That’s a generous offer, Naira…” he started to say, fully intending to insist out loud as well. She was already a step ahead of him, though. He watched her settle herself onto the ground, deliberately leaving space for him to lie between her and the trees. Now if he insisted he recognized it would mean making her stand up again to move over which seemed almost as impolite as making her sleep against the wind and he was immediately uncomfortable – both with the thought of letting her take the outside, and with the thought of insisting that he take it. As a result he was still standing after she had made herself relatively comfortable on the ground, very smoothly precluding his intended chivalrous misogyny. Of course, he didn’t see it as chivalry, and that contributed to his frustration – it was just logical, wasn’t it? He was larger, he would make a better windscreen. Plus – he would probably have stood in the open all night if she hadn’t come along and any warmth was a win over that.
Her coat picked up the ethereal white of the starlight reflected off the snow, and gave her a luminescent quality, briefly interrupted by the wind-blown shadows of the pines behind them. He was trying to play his polite stranger act, which usually came with a dissociative distance that separated him from forming a personal opinion or emotional response. And yet, he was aware, as he watched her, of finding her quite lovely, and no less so for falling short of the damsel in distress.
So he acquiesced, comforting himself with the intention of trading places with her as soon as she woke again overnight, and he settled himself down alongside her, stretching his larger frame against hers – carefully maximizing the skin contact to keep her from getting too cold. As he did so she was offering to help him look for Alayaya – in between yawns – for which he felt gratitude that only deepened his rosy perception of her. Finally arranging his limbs comfortably, he turned his face back to answer and found her eyes were already closed. A softer smile crept onto his lips as he watched her sink into sleep. He murmured “Perhaps, in the morning.” Almost inaudibly, trying not to pull her back from that welcome oblivion. He was not consciously aware of his eyes studying her features as they transformed in the relaxation of sleep, but watch her he did, silently, the wind whining and the trees whispering over their heads. He watched her as her breathing slowed, as the tensions of waking life on your own melted, the occasional unconscious, ever wary turn of her ear toward a new sound in the distance of the meadow.
He remained sleepless, though gently encouraged by her rhythmic breathing and the slow, easy beat of her heart which he felt against his own chest. He laid his head gently, slowly, upon her shoulder – careful not to wake her, watchful now over the darkness and the illusion of misty light across the snow in the open spaces beyond them.
05-18-2017, 12:15 AM (This post was last modified: 05-22-2017, 07:00 PM by Naira.)
Naira was unsure of what exactly it had been that had woken her, whether it was the fleeting remnants of a dream or something real that had manifested in the Meadow where they lay. Whatever it was, it had caused her head to snap up with alarm, deep breaths forcing her narrow sides to stretch and fall as best they could against the solid ground. Chocolate eyes scanned the clearing, unable to make out anything solid against the inky black of the night. She sighed heavily, resigning herself to a night of uneasy sleep, even with the powerful body of the stallion lying beside her.
She was suddenly conscious of the weight of his dark head on her shoulder, and laughed lightly, careful not to disturb him, “Well hello there,” she whispers, unsure if he was asleep or awake, or any restless combination of the two. Her last groggy memories before sleep had overtaken her were those of Seriath looming over her, looking rather uncomfortable. At what, she didn’t know. Perhaps sleeping at her side made him more ill at ease than if the two had gone their separate ways.
Whatever the reason, the relief and comfort she felt when he settled in beside her made her forget any of that pesky politeness that might make her say something like, ‘You don’t need to feel obligated to stay with me,’ or ‘You don’t have to stay if you’re not comfortable.’ No, she had merely signed in contentment and closed her eyes, basking in the warm blanket he provided against the snow. And the next thing she remembers is waking up, heart pounding and a slick sheen of sweat blanketing her golden skin.
Becoming slightly bored and upset with her sudden inability to return to dream land, Naira turned her head, ever so slowly as to not disturb the stallion resting on her back, and studied the features of his handsome face. The contours and ridges along his jawline seemed somehow softer in the moonlight, and she smiled lightly as the whiskers on the bottom of his maw tickled her shoulder.
Before long, her breathing had calmed some and she tried to no avail to return to the peaceful sleep she had been having before. The world was quiet for a time, quieter than it had been in quite a while. This gave her some time to explore her thoughts, and she thought again to the filly that Seriath had lost-the filly that apparently resembled her. The thought of him with a child of any kind was enough to make her giggle; he seemed so nervous all of the time, what kind of a parental figure must he be?
In between her observations and wonderings about Seriath, the mare periodically scanned the clearing, searching for some sign of what had so disturbed her. Other than that, she merely waited to see who would rise first; the stallion or the sun.
naira
i hope you dance
ooc: sooo I wasn't sure if he actually ever fell asleep, but I tried to write it so you could play it either way
