12-20-2021, 02:15 AM
lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all --
Over the past several years (he has lost count, and does not care to find it again) he has drifted, wayward as he has always been. There has never been anything to anchor him to any one place; not a heart or a kingdom, not his family (scattered to the winds though they were) nor any sort of acquaintance.
He has never been good at staying, and so he never stayed.
But Beqanna, stalwart as she is, had never left. She changed—sometimes subtly, but oftentimes suddenly in a way that demanded attention—but she never crumbled, and she did not seem to mind the unmoored stallion that did nothing to help or hinder her. He watched them lose magic and gain it back, watched kingdoms dissolved and new ones rise, but none of it had ever meant much to him. Strange, perhaps, for a boy born to a once king (now disappeared) and a once queen (now an angel, and who’s happenings he cannot possibly keep up with), but they could all fall into the sea and he likely would not notice, would instead only find some new forest to haunt.
And so while he does not notice or pay attention to much, he notices her.
And while he does not remember many from days long lost, he remembers her.
He watches her, noticing first the way she moves beneath moonlight, and he is reminded of a time before magic ran rampant as it does now. How back then there were some that simply seemed to be magic without actually having it, the kind that could capture your attention and keep it.
He had been a young boy then, stupid and naive in many ways, but he had never been easily enchanted; not quite the way he was with her.
There is a part of him that thinks of turning away. To let her be in her quiet and her solitude, because she had always struck him as the kind of creature better off left alone, unsullied by the world.
But he is also selfish and far too curious, and he follows the moonlit path that leads to her. The darkness of the shadows fall away, peeled back to reveal a once dark dapple gray now turned mostly silver, but with impossibly dark eyes that have never changed. He does not intrude on her space entirely, but he makes it known that he is approaching her, a nearly invisible request for her attention. “I remember you,” his voice sounds coarse even to his own ears since he did not see reason to speak much, but there is the barest hint of a smile that almost softens the roughness of it. He almost says her name but his tongue gets stuck on it, recoiling from the familiarity of it, and so instead he only comments idly, “You’ve been gone a long time.”
Over the past several years (he has lost count, and does not care to find it again) he has drifted, wayward as he has always been. There has never been anything to anchor him to any one place; not a heart or a kingdom, not his family (scattered to the winds though they were) nor any sort of acquaintance.
He has never been good at staying, and so he never stayed.
But Beqanna, stalwart as she is, had never left. She changed—sometimes subtly, but oftentimes suddenly in a way that demanded attention—but she never crumbled, and she did not seem to mind the unmoored stallion that did nothing to help or hinder her. He watched them lose magic and gain it back, watched kingdoms dissolved and new ones rise, but none of it had ever meant much to him. Strange, perhaps, for a boy born to a once king (now disappeared) and a once queen (now an angel, and who’s happenings he cannot possibly keep up with), but they could all fall into the sea and he likely would not notice, would instead only find some new forest to haunt.
And so while he does not notice or pay attention to much, he notices her.
And while he does not remember many from days long lost, he remembers her.
He watches her, noticing first the way she moves beneath moonlight, and he is reminded of a time before magic ran rampant as it does now. How back then there were some that simply seemed to be magic without actually having it, the kind that could capture your attention and keep it.
He had been a young boy then, stupid and naive in many ways, but he had never been easily enchanted; not quite the way he was with her.
There is a part of him that thinks of turning away. To let her be in her quiet and her solitude, because she had always struck him as the kind of creature better off left alone, unsullied by the world.
But he is also selfish and far too curious, and he follows the moonlit path that leads to her. The darkness of the shadows fall away, peeled back to reveal a once dark dapple gray now turned mostly silver, but with impossibly dark eyes that have never changed. He does not intrude on her space entirely, but he makes it known that he is approaching her, a nearly invisible request for her attention. “I remember you,” his voice sounds coarse even to his own ears since he did not see reason to speak much, but there is the barest hint of a smile that almost softens the roughness of it. He almost says her name but his tongue gets stuck on it, recoiling from the familiarity of it, and so instead he only comments idly, “You’ve been gone a long time.”
-- but lend me your heart and i’ll just let you fall
eadoin.
@Ethenia