06-22-2017, 06:02 PM
Polaris
She feels his eyes before she sees him, would know that intensity anywhere, the way it traces her skin like gentle fingers. It makes her soft, quiets the unease in her heart to know that he is close by, always near. That he would always chase away the shadows before they crept close enough to dampen her light. She turns to look for him, those faded amber eyes slipping open to pick him out from his trek across a small meadow, his dark and purple so beautiful like snowcapped mountains etched through with frost.
It is clear that he is coming to join her so she does not leave the water, but her feet take a few small steps toward him, tugged close by his gravity. A soft squelch of mud marks his passing as it sucks at his hooves, and then the quiet splash of water rippling outwards from his body. The small waves lapped up higher at her sides, and she swayed and smiled up at him with the quiet quirk of such glowing teal lips. “Ruan.” She says in that whisper-voice, like the rustle of wings and leaves and rain through trees. But she is cut off by his breath against her spine, cool like winter to war with the summer heat, and she is at once breathless and wide-eyed and pushing her nose to the crook of his shoulder when he stops beside her.
Polaris, he greets her in that murmurous hum, swinging wide to face her in the water. It is strange when for a moment she finds she cannot lift her eyes to his, when his full focus makes her disappear a little within herself, a soft furrow in the impossibly smooth of her brow. A strange tug in her belly. But then he noses the hollow beneath her cheek and it lifts her chin to him again, lifts those soft amber eyes until they are warm against the hollows of his dark face.
Ruan.
He drops his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, and she follows him like an echo, inching forward until they are pressed together and quiet. For a long while she is content with this, to bask in his closeness and the evenness of his breath, to feel him soften at her touch. But the silence has a weight to it, a weight she knows well because it is the heaviness he chases from her heart with those quiet touches and murmurous words, with a light he wields without meaning to. She pulls back hesitantly, those eyes open now and searching, and then ducks beneath his chin and against a chest she had finally grown into.
She is wordless at first, a soft nuzzle to his shoulder, lips in a worried frown and nibbling gently at his neck. She might’ve smiled if she knew the truth, that he had worried at the dark in her expression, the quiet draped across that strange gleaming skin as she watched her own reflection in the water. That she thought she saw the same in him now and meant to erase it in any way he’d let her. Maybe she had learned this from him. This urgent need to fix, to soothe.
She slips out from under him, turning to grab a lock of his mane between her teeth and tug them deeper into the water until it lapped halfway up her neck, making the water immediately around her glow with her teal. “I don’t know how to swim.” She says in a voice like violet flowers, shy and fragile and beautiful in a wild way. “Teach me.” There is a smile on her lips now, a lightness she feels whenever he is near, and she reaches for him again, presses her mouth to his cool neck, presses a smile that he will feel by the curve of her lips. Then she takes another step back, watching him with eyes that are curious and bright, so much softer now.
It is clear that he is coming to join her so she does not leave the water, but her feet take a few small steps toward him, tugged close by his gravity. A soft squelch of mud marks his passing as it sucks at his hooves, and then the quiet splash of water rippling outwards from his body. The small waves lapped up higher at her sides, and she swayed and smiled up at him with the quiet quirk of such glowing teal lips. “Ruan.” She says in that whisper-voice, like the rustle of wings and leaves and rain through trees. But she is cut off by his breath against her spine, cool like winter to war with the summer heat, and she is at once breathless and wide-eyed and pushing her nose to the crook of his shoulder when he stops beside her.
Polaris, he greets her in that murmurous hum, swinging wide to face her in the water. It is strange when for a moment she finds she cannot lift her eyes to his, when his full focus makes her disappear a little within herself, a soft furrow in the impossibly smooth of her brow. A strange tug in her belly. But then he noses the hollow beneath her cheek and it lifts her chin to him again, lifts those soft amber eyes until they are warm against the hollows of his dark face.
Ruan.
He drops his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, and she follows him like an echo, inching forward until they are pressed together and quiet. For a long while she is content with this, to bask in his closeness and the evenness of his breath, to feel him soften at her touch. But the silence has a weight to it, a weight she knows well because it is the heaviness he chases from her heart with those quiet touches and murmurous words, with a light he wields without meaning to. She pulls back hesitantly, those eyes open now and searching, and then ducks beneath his chin and against a chest she had finally grown into.
She is wordless at first, a soft nuzzle to his shoulder, lips in a worried frown and nibbling gently at his neck. She might’ve smiled if she knew the truth, that he had worried at the dark in her expression, the quiet draped across that strange gleaming skin as she watched her own reflection in the water. That she thought she saw the same in him now and meant to erase it in any way he’d let her. Maybe she had learned this from him. This urgent need to fix, to soothe.
She slips out from under him, turning to grab a lock of his mane between her teeth and tug them deeper into the water until it lapped halfway up her neck, making the water immediately around her glow with her teal. “I don’t know how to swim.” She says in a voice like violet flowers, shy and fragile and beautiful in a wild way. “Teach me.” There is a smile on her lips now, a lightness she feels whenever he is near, and she reaches for him again, presses her mouth to his cool neck, presses a smile that he will feel by the curve of her lips. Then she takes another step back, watching him with eyes that are curious and bright, so much softer now.
though i never needed any proof to trust the heart that beats inside of you