05-18-2016, 12:12 AM
A kiss is not a contract
The sun is at her back, cloaking her in a silver shroud as she does exactly what Phaedrus imagines: One hoof in front of the other, proudly marching free from Archam and cobblestone creek. But it’s not for forever, and that thought weighs heavily on her mind as she winds through the edge of the herdland before breaking free into the open expanse of the plains. She stops there, closing her eyes for a moment before breathing in deeply to feel the full effect of the open world around her. A breeze, gentle in nature, caresses her face and the blue-haired girl lowers her head to smell the coming of autumn. She alone had broken her chains, and she alone would deliver the news to Phaedrus.
Her glassy eyes snap open and without another pause, Besra jolts into a gallop to thunder across the field, across the quiet playground, near the border of her home Golden Plains, and directly through the wooded valley that served as a border for the Dale. When she had left, Phaedrus had promised her he would be here, every day, waiting for her return. She knows without having to know that he’ll be the first thing she sees when she breaks through the green cover of the woods; Phaedrus had kept all of his promises to her. So when she spies a glimpse of him on the horizon, the great, black beast that he was, she smiles and calls out for him.
It was strange, to feel such relief. Of all the people she knew, Besra had doubted greatly her own ability to be drawn into some semblance of a happy romance, but Phaedrus was not the sappy sort of love she expected. He was a slow, wondrous sort of strength to her. A true companion and surprisingly, her rock when she needed him most. No - it’s not blind love between them, but something growing to be much stronger. Trust, respect. All things she admired more than just infatuation. “Phaedrus!” She exclaims once she’s reached him, a breathless sort of happiness crashing over her in waves. Her neck curls, forehead bumping gently into the crook of his shoulder before she turns about to face him. “Miss me?” She questions, a smile lighting up her eyes.
It’s almost enough to take away the pain of what was to come.
Her glassy eyes snap open and without another pause, Besra jolts into a gallop to thunder across the field, across the quiet playground, near the border of her home Golden Plains, and directly through the wooded valley that served as a border for the Dale. When she had left, Phaedrus had promised her he would be here, every day, waiting for her return. She knows without having to know that he’ll be the first thing she sees when she breaks through the green cover of the woods; Phaedrus had kept all of his promises to her. So when she spies a glimpse of him on the horizon, the great, black beast that he was, she smiles and calls out for him.
It was strange, to feel such relief. Of all the people she knew, Besra had doubted greatly her own ability to be drawn into some semblance of a happy romance, but Phaedrus was not the sappy sort of love she expected. He was a slow, wondrous sort of strength to her. A true companion and surprisingly, her rock when she needed him most. No - it’s not blind love between them, but something growing to be much stronger. Trust, respect. All things she admired more than just infatuation. “Phaedrus!” She exclaims once she’s reached him, a breathless sort of happiness crashing over her in waves. Her neck curls, forehead bumping gently into the crook of his shoulder before she turns about to face him. “Miss me?” She questions, a smile lighting up her eyes.
It’s almost enough to take away the pain of what was to come.