Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind
Physical touch is not an unwelcome thing when it comes to him and he does not see her as an invader in his personal space. Being forced to expand his small circle of family to something wider, he accepts her brush of comfort and brings his muzzle to linger for a moment with her own. Despite not knowing her well on the account of just meeting, he appreciates her kindness and recognizes the tone of her voice as someone who knows exactly what he feels. There is no doubt that she means what she says. "Thank you." He offers quietly and means that as well.
His disappointment is evident when she mentions not having seen them but it’s swallowed down by the interest that follows when she speaks of knowing his mother. There are many questions that follow but he keeps them to himself. Instead, he watches with growing curiosity as she begins to tell him the story of her own upbringing. Not just tell him, she shows him. He is fascinated as the meadow turns into a place he has never seen before. Silver Cove is familiar to him only in name, he knows every land in Beqanna and where it should be if he was to see a map but the place itself is only something he had imagined. Seeing it spread before him is a wild thing, seeing her as a child is even more captivating.
He watches the stallion Castile (someone he’s only heard about in history lessons but had never seen before) lead her away. Then the scenery changes to one he knows very well. A pang of emotion curls around his heart as he searches the familiar canyons, dry instead of soaked in seawater, and he smiles at the grown Oriash before him. It falters when his mother appears beside her.
It had been so long since he had seen her and even if Oriash’s memory isn’t perfect… There is no mistaking her. She is younger here in this memory, without the genie adornments or extra wings, but he would know her anywhere. The young stallion reaches out to her, this figment of his companion’s mind, as she begins to fade before his eyes. He wants to cry out, to hold on to Oceane before she disappears again forever, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his muzzle back to his chest as his heart stutters painfully in his chest with grief.
He barely hears what she says as the Meadow comes back into view. It registers somewhere, Tephra and not feeling as if she belonged anywhere after the Cove. Yet he can’t shake the image of his mother from his mind. “What was she like?” He finally manages, still gazing to where she had once stood. “My mother? When she was young?” A pause. “And how did you do that anyways? How do you paint pictures like that?”
His disappointment is evident when she mentions not having seen them but it’s swallowed down by the interest that follows when she speaks of knowing his mother. There are many questions that follow but he keeps them to himself. Instead, he watches with growing curiosity as she begins to tell him the story of her own upbringing. Not just tell him, she shows him. He is fascinated as the meadow turns into a place he has never seen before. Silver Cove is familiar to him only in name, he knows every land in Beqanna and where it should be if he was to see a map but the place itself is only something he had imagined. Seeing it spread before him is a wild thing, seeing her as a child is even more captivating.
He watches the stallion Castile (someone he’s only heard about in history lessons but had never seen before) lead her away. Then the scenery changes to one he knows very well. A pang of emotion curls around his heart as he searches the familiar canyons, dry instead of soaked in seawater, and he smiles at the grown Oriash before him. It falters when his mother appears beside her.
It had been so long since he had seen her and even if Oriash’s memory isn’t perfect… There is no mistaking her. She is younger here in this memory, without the genie adornments or extra wings, but he would know her anywhere. The young stallion reaches out to her, this figment of his companion’s mind, as she begins to fade before his eyes. He wants to cry out, to hold on to Oceane before she disappears again forever, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his muzzle back to his chest as his heart stutters painfully in his chest with grief.
He barely hears what she says as the Meadow comes back into view. It registers somewhere, Tephra and not feeling as if she belonged anywhere after the Cove. Yet he can’t shake the image of his mother from his mind. “What was she like?” He finally manages, still gazing to where she had once stood. “My mother? When she was young?” A pause. “And how did you do that anyways? How do you paint pictures like that?”
Link
@Oriash