in the darkest hour, the dead of night

[Pteron]

and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
----------------tell me: who do i run to?

The scent of oleander grows thicker as the little mare comes closer. He steps politely to the side to allow her more space to drink and watches her quietly with one wide olive eye until they have both had their fill, content in the temporary silence. Pteron, ever appreciative of beauty, follows the smooth line of her neck down to where the ivory bones emerge from her skin. There is something unnatural about that, Pteron has always thought, but it is not the fault of the afflicted, and so instead he admires the black silk of her mane.

He meets her hungry gaze and immediately lifts a hoof to step back. The soft trill of her voice gives him pause, for it so different from what he’d seen in her eyes a moment before. Yet as he look into them now, they seem only warm and friendly, matching the easy smile that now grows on his.

“It is a beautiful day,” he repeats with a slow nod, as though his mind is thoughtful or perhaps slightly addled. “A fine day to make friends.”

The pegasus shakes his head, and some of the odd fuzziness that had grasped him for a moment dissipates. Strange, he thinks.

“I’m Pteron. And you?”

@[rosebay]

-- pteron --