02-12-2024, 12:28 AM
For no particular reason that he’s aware of, Doctor prefers night to day.
Perhaps it is because fire dances better at night. The shadows are longer and catch the light with glee while the moon watches on from above. The dun stallion lingers alone at the treeline, head low to the ground as he exhales small sparks onto the dried leaves and needles underfoot. It is a simple pastime, one he’s enjoyed since he was a foal. Born in a time of war, he had not been allowed much free time (his mother deigned to shape him into her chaotic puppet), but there had been times when, like now, the world lulled and afforded him the meager luxury of boredom.
Small threads of smoke rise from the embers that flee his lungs, twisting together and waltzing in the starlight. Tiny flames soon sprout, urged to grow by an empty sigh from his mouth, but their modest beauty is not enough to distract him for long. He watches closely as they spread a slow path along the foot of a pine that smells sweetly of sap, but he knows he must soon end their foray. After all, he cannot control the fire, and he is not in the habit of burning forests down.
After he’s snuffed his lovely creations beneath his chipped hooves, he turns away. When he lifts his gaze, though, a pale golden mare crosses his view. She is alone and moving silently toward the trees, likely in search of a den for the night as the distant howl of wolves rises into the night.
Intrigued, Doctor watches her for a moment while one ear flicks to listen to the predatory beasts’ chorus. She settles in a clearing and he slinks nearer, smoke curling from his nostrils as he stops nearby. “Rather brave of you to sleep alone out here,” he observes, standing at the edge of her little forest hollow. “You aren’t worried about the wolves?”
Perhaps it is because fire dances better at night. The shadows are longer and catch the light with glee while the moon watches on from above. The dun stallion lingers alone at the treeline, head low to the ground as he exhales small sparks onto the dried leaves and needles underfoot. It is a simple pastime, one he’s enjoyed since he was a foal. Born in a time of war, he had not been allowed much free time (his mother deigned to shape him into her chaotic puppet), but there had been times when, like now, the world lulled and afforded him the meager luxury of boredom.
Small threads of smoke rise from the embers that flee his lungs, twisting together and waltzing in the starlight. Tiny flames soon sprout, urged to grow by an empty sigh from his mouth, but their modest beauty is not enough to distract him for long. He watches closely as they spread a slow path along the foot of a pine that smells sweetly of sap, but he knows he must soon end their foray. After all, he cannot control the fire, and he is not in the habit of burning forests down.
After he’s snuffed his lovely creations beneath his chipped hooves, he turns away. When he lifts his gaze, though, a pale golden mare crosses his view. She is alone and moving silently toward the trees, likely in search of a den for the night as the distant howl of wolves rises into the night.
Intrigued, Doctor watches her for a moment while one ear flicks to listen to the predatory beasts’ chorus. She settles in a clearing and he slinks nearer, smoke curling from his nostrils as he stops nearby. “Rather brave of you to sleep alone out here,” he observes, standing at the edge of her little forest hollow. “You aren’t worried about the wolves?”
doctor
@Umani - sorry it's kinda awful, I was rushing to finish before bed! <3