01-11-2020, 11:18 PM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
For a few moments, the quiet feels like a heavy blanket, wrapping itself around Tiercel until he feels choked by it. He is still ruminating over the existence of his younger siblings and the empty, eerie feeling that Pangea brings makes him want to yell as loud as he can. He wants to scream loud enough that Gale might hear it from wherever he is, a burnt colt whose family’s tears couldn’t put out the fire that killed him. He’d seen those fresh faces in Taiga falling into the volcano just like Gale had, just like Tiercel has been picturing every night since the day it happened. It makes him want to scream — the pressure of the silence, his brother’s charred wings, the suspicious faces of Celina and Elio — but the feeling of a breeze whispering across his angular cheekbones pushes the desire away for another day.
The shadows are gathering close to him, swirling and dancing with surreal force. Tiercel has seen a tornado once when a terrible storm coaxed the angry clouds to touch a Loess plain. The churning storm had only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough that not even Lepis’s emotions were able to calm his terror. Less afraid now, Tiercel watches the way the shadows move as that tornado had, his clear cerulean eyes holding an expression of lingering rage and mild interest.
His gaze shifts smoothly toward the mare when she speaks, breaking through the silence that had aggravated his anger even further. Tiercel settles under the relief her voice brings — she is a welcome distraction from the bundle of heavy, bitter emotions that rest just beneath his serious blue-and-gold face. “I’m Tiercel.” Once upon a time, his mother might’ve encouraged him to say more. “And?” she might prod. “Son of Wolfbane and Lepis, prince of Loess,” he would have said, feeling the bitterness poke at his heart. He leaves his official title in his past, thankful to feel the weight of its responsibilities lift from his shoulders (though perhaps such responsibilities are never truly gone).
Though not entirely sure what he’s going to say, Tiercel opens his mouth to answer her second question when the shadows fully form into a gaunt-looking stallion and his counterpart. They look… Well, hungry is the best way he could put it. They seem ready for a hunt, practically vibrating, and Tiercel recognizes the force of his anger weaving freely between the four of them. It is more difficult to rein in this emotion, especially when he is feeling it so fully, but the gold-and-blue is able to dampen the force of his anger until it feels something more like unrest.
“I guess I’m exploring,” he says after a moment’s pause. It’s a lie; he’s done enough exploring in the past few years to last a lifetime, yet he doesn’t want to admit that he needs to be someplace away from those two young faces. “Who are you?”
The shadows are gathering close to him, swirling and dancing with surreal force. Tiercel has seen a tornado once when a terrible storm coaxed the angry clouds to touch a Loess plain. The churning storm had only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough that not even Lepis’s emotions were able to calm his terror. Less afraid now, Tiercel watches the way the shadows move as that tornado had, his clear cerulean eyes holding an expression of lingering rage and mild interest.
His gaze shifts smoothly toward the mare when she speaks, breaking through the silence that had aggravated his anger even further. Tiercel settles under the relief her voice brings — she is a welcome distraction from the bundle of heavy, bitter emotions that rest just beneath his serious blue-and-gold face. “I’m Tiercel.” Once upon a time, his mother might’ve encouraged him to say more. “And?” she might prod. “Son of Wolfbane and Lepis, prince of Loess,” he would have said, feeling the bitterness poke at his heart. He leaves his official title in his past, thankful to feel the weight of its responsibilities lift from his shoulders (though perhaps such responsibilities are never truly gone).
Though not entirely sure what he’s going to say, Tiercel opens his mouth to answer her second question when the shadows fully form into a gaunt-looking stallion and his counterpart. They look… Well, hungry is the best way he could put it. They seem ready for a hunt, practically vibrating, and Tiercel recognizes the force of his anger weaving freely between the four of them. It is more difficult to rein in this emotion, especially when he is feeling it so fully, but the gold-and-blue is able to dampen the force of his anger until it feels something more like unrest.
“I guess I’m exploring,” he says after a moment’s pause. It’s a lie; he’s done enough exploring in the past few years to last a lifetime, yet he doesn’t want to admit that he needs to be someplace away from those two young faces. “Who are you?”
tiercel.
@[Anaxarete] @[Niklas]