It is not often that the red and bone mare can be found away from her family - especially in the evening when sleep should be beginning to settle over quiet minds. But there is a restlessness in her heart lately, an unease she cannot name, a feeling she cannot place. It finds her when she is at her quietest, growing in the moments sleep makes her limbs feel heavy and her mind feel gentle. It comes in place of dreams, in place of the contentment she usually finds nestled beside her favorite shade of grey.
The sky is just as it always is, and swears she has every single constellation memorized. She watches it for a long while, having wandered towards the ocean for the breathtaking view it always provides. There is very little quite as humbling as standing in shadow at the edge of endless water while it reflects the black and diamond sky forever.
She might’ve stood there for hours, just listening to the quiet shoosh of waves against the sand, the soft clatter of shells and driftwood washed ashore. But a voice catches her attention, an unfamiliar one with a note of begrudging affection that makes her smile for its familiarity. She opens her eyes - though she hadn’t recalled closing them, and turns to follow the voice like a leaf caught in a current of gentle wind.
She finds them with a gentle smile, those seagreen eyes so soft and gentle as she watches a father tell his daughter a story in the orange glow of firelight. It is an awkward moment to stumble across though, and for a long while she is left hidden in the shadows so as not to startle them. But the longer she stays, the stranger it feels, and just as she considers slipping away again, the story ends.
Her breath sounds loud in this brand new quiet, and she knows at once that he will notice her without a story to preoccupy himself. So she takes a step forward, out of the shadow and into the firelight, her delicate head bowed gently in an almost appeasing gesture. She means to make herself seem as unstartling as possible, but what she has forgotten in so much time spent with a family so good at loving her, is that she is frightening.
She is pale copper and silvery gold hair, soft sea green eyes the color of warm oceans. There is white on her legs and over most of her face, sweeping low over either cheek, and it shines pearlescent in the soft ethereal glow of her illuminated body. Even her hooves are pearl, bright and beautiful and enameled with so much soft, shy color. There are red flowers in her mane and tail, and even more twining in the branches of her antlers. She might have been beautiful if not for the bleeding protrusions of bone spread like armor over her delicate body.
“I don’t mean to intrude.” She whispers, and her voice, though soft, does little to soften the lines of red that spill down her chestnut skin, or the way the bone plate across her face is stained rust around all those crisp white edges. “I couldn’t sleep and heard your story.” There is so much gentleness in her face as she looks down at the sleeping girl, then back up at the bay man - and then soft surprise as she realizes there is only flickering flame where his mane and tail should be. “Do you know any stories of small chestnut mares?” She asks, that smile almost shy on her face.
i am brambles but i am tangled in your love