When they embrace, he imagines himself outside of his body. Away from this intimate space, somewhere high above — watching from a distance, meddling with clouds and sunshine in the stead of their obviously emotional reacquaintance.
He knows he is an actor in this. They do not, but he is entwined. To him it is as much his as it is theirs — perhaps if he only knew the circumstance of their parting he would think differently. His unfamiliarity is not half so mighty in its tragedy. Not half as violent, and only an infinitesimal minute compared to the threatening everlastingness that should have kept them away from each other in any way but spiritually.
If he only knew what the two of them had gone through to find themselves here. A queer and unexpected together. He had never been promised an eternity without his father, only dared to find him in the throng. But that binding promise had been broken, and he has found him.
But in many ways he is but a boy still, he feels his own emotions much stronger than anyone else's. Not lacking empathy, or consideration, but passionately hungry to sate his own needs. To embrace and be embraced; to have known both these men for so, so much longer.
The young stallion is transfixed. He clings to every words, for he knows Magnus' exposition to be a part of him. A part of his family history. But he leaves much out. Because it is unnecessary — the object of his devoted attention knows the perverse details, and they are both choking on the impossible sweetness of it all. And it is not until they turn to him that he finds his own mind blank. Battling inertia, the buckskin stallion turn his eyes to his feet.
“...but, you seem so familiar to me. I cannot place why.” He grins faintly, crooked and awkward as he contemplates the sheer power of heredity. “It's funny,” He clears his throat, yet unwilling to raise his eyes, “only, I think I've heard your name before.” But that's not it, not at all what he means to say. “Well, I think maybe,” The words “I am your son” are too difficult, he chooses an easier way, “my mother mentioned it before. Maybe you know her? Vineine. Maybe that's it.” Youthful cowardice, it gives him the courage to look up.
He knows he is an actor in this. They do not, but he is entwined. To him it is as much his as it is theirs — perhaps if he only knew the circumstance of their parting he would think differently. His unfamiliarity is not half so mighty in its tragedy. Not half as violent, and only an infinitesimal minute compared to the threatening everlastingness that should have kept them away from each other in any way but spiritually.
If he only knew what the two of them had gone through to find themselves here. A queer and unexpected together. He had never been promised an eternity without his father, only dared to find him in the throng. But that binding promise had been broken, and he has found him.
But in many ways he is but a boy still, he feels his own emotions much stronger than anyone else's. Not lacking empathy, or consideration, but passionately hungry to sate his own needs. To embrace and be embraced; to have known both these men for so, so much longer.
The young stallion is transfixed. He clings to every words, for he knows Magnus' exposition to be a part of him. A part of his family history. But he leaves much out. Because it is unnecessary — the object of his devoted attention knows the perverse details, and they are both choking on the impossible sweetness of it all. And it is not until they turn to him that he finds his own mind blank. Battling inertia, the buckskin stallion turn his eyes to his feet.
“...but, you seem so familiar to me. I cannot place why.” He grins faintly, crooked and awkward as he contemplates the sheer power of heredity. “It's funny,” He clears his throat, yet unwilling to raise his eyes, “only, I think I've heard your name before.” But that's not it, not at all what he means to say. “Well, I think maybe,” The words “I am your son” are too difficult, he chooses an easier way, “my mother mentioned it before. Maybe you know her? Vineine. Maybe that's it.” Youthful cowardice, it gives him the courage to look up.
It is steep, it is stone. Such Recovery.
From the daily press, the deepest nest,
the keeper's keep.