03-31-2021, 03:10 PM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
To give and to receive. Tiercel wonders if this might be the root of their existence. Are they creatures made to take from this world? If so, what is he expected to take? Perhaps he should be more receiving of the wind on his cheeks or the forgiveness of another. Better yet, he should be more willing to freely give his apologies when he has done wrong. Like dark and light, maybe they are made to receive what their world offers and then give back only as they know how to. And in the end, they will give up everything — after death, their bodies are slowly absorbed into the soil.
Tiercel has a suspicion that these thoughts should feel morbid, but he wonders if they are perfectly normal. Aquaria talks as if Ischia were its own being (a presence that gives to her family and expects to receive from them as well). It prompts the stallion to move his cerulean eyes from her scaled face and scan their surroundings, as dark as they might be. Their world is shrouded in magic that Tiercel cannot wholly understand, and part of him is willing to accept that he will never understand it. Yet the way Aquaria speaks of her island makes him wonder; is he expected to give back to their world to replace all that he has taken from it?
“Huh,” he says, with a lilt that sounds just as thoughtful as he is in this moment. Tiercel isn’t sure what giving back looks like, but he wonders if it falls along the lines of raising children, of releasing the anger that froths within him, of treating Islas with respect beyond what he has for himself. The thought of the ivory mare makes his heart lurch with a sudden feeling of homesickness. “Hopefully, those brighter days will return soon.” Tiercel’s dark forelock slides across the bridge of his nose as he dips his head. “It was an honor to meet you, Aquaria, but I have a feeling I should return home soon.” His cerulean eyes linger on the scaled mare, memorizing the bold lines of her face and the shade of her gaze.
“I will return to your beloved island when the sun comes back and see it in all its glory.” And with a final smile, Tiercel splashes into the ocean.
Tiercel has a suspicion that these thoughts should feel morbid, but he wonders if they are perfectly normal. Aquaria talks as if Ischia were its own being (a presence that gives to her family and expects to receive from them as well). It prompts the stallion to move his cerulean eyes from her scaled face and scan their surroundings, as dark as they might be. Their world is shrouded in magic that Tiercel cannot wholly understand, and part of him is willing to accept that he will never understand it. Yet the way Aquaria speaks of her island makes him wonder; is he expected to give back to their world to replace all that he has taken from it?
“Huh,” he says, with a lilt that sounds just as thoughtful as he is in this moment. Tiercel isn’t sure what giving back looks like, but he wonders if it falls along the lines of raising children, of releasing the anger that froths within him, of treating Islas with respect beyond what he has for himself. The thought of the ivory mare makes his heart lurch with a sudden feeling of homesickness. “Hopefully, those brighter days will return soon.” Tiercel’s dark forelock slides across the bridge of his nose as he dips his head. “It was an honor to meet you, Aquaria, but I have a feeling I should return home soon.” His cerulean eyes linger on the scaled mare, memorizing the bold lines of her face and the shade of her gaze.
“I will return to your beloved island when the sun comes back and see it in all its glory.” And with a final smile, Tiercel splashes into the ocean.
tiercel.
@[Aquaria]