resurrect the saint within the wretch
There is something in this playful banter; something that relaxes the overo stallion, as if the skin-deep conversation would never grow from there and that, despite becoming familiar with a stranger, that after this they would be on their separate ways and never speak again. That is his hope, of course. That is always his hope: that the ones he sees in his visions never coincide with the ones he comes in contact with, and vice versa. It is easier to keep it light and surface level, just in case he is swept off in the middle of their conversation to witness their destruction.
It is also part of the reason why he stays. A life of solitude for the safety of others leaves him desperate for conversation, craving intimacy and freedom. It is all pretend, he knows, this conversation with Aislyn - it will not last, it never does, so he does not mind entertaining the dampened evening with frivolous things such as small talk.
However, it seems that their ‘small talk’ has now slowly turned a corner, heading down a dark path that he wonders will be something Aislyn will want to tread upon once there. He had carefully been tiptoeing around the initial topic - why they, in fact, tend to be alone - and had been hoping she would either lose interest or even find him boring with all of his half-truths. It seems to have the opposite effect and there is a certain tension that shadows his face as she offers to go first, darkening the sparkling in his eyes with one blink.
Warden’s ivory wings fidget uncomfortably as if attempting to settle the tautness that has come to rest across his posture. For a moment, he considers opening them in one fell swoop and taking to the skies and he wonders if she notices this - his indecision, his hesitation. Would it make her all the more curious about his life, or would she see it as an insult to her own? With a sharp snort, his pale mouth falls into a thinly pressed line, stomping a single hoof gently into the pine needle-clad undergrowth.
“I’m nothing but a gentleman,” he begins with an attempt to grasp at the light-hearted banter that had been between them only but a moment ago, “so ladies first.”
For the first time he idly thinks about what she has to share and if, perhaps, her reason would be more devastating than his. Black-tipped ears flick towards her gently, a look of genuine curiosity in the deep ocean blue of his eyes.
@[Aislyn]
