maybe tomorrow || any

[Bastille]

it's got to get easier somehow

Something glinting in the bright sunlight vaguely caught his attention, though one could assume he hadn't noticed it at all. As in tune with the workings of the sun in the desert, it typically meant someone or something was nearby. His lungs had not quite given in the burning sensation that gripped them, so he pressed on as though nothing had so much as drawn a thought from him. Pale skin was gleaming like gold beneath the beating rays, muscles working almost in unison to draw him eagerly toward some unknown. It wasn't that he was running away from anything. Truthfully, there was nothing to run away from. Solitude was not exactly something one would wish to escape, when the company of others seemed to cause so much internal strife. He didn't abhor the idea of company. He simply didn't seek it out for the simple fact that it typically brought a world of drama and he didn't care to exist in the same world as drama, much less the same instance of it.

Almost as though it was second nature, he peered sidelong to eye a figure that had quite frankly drifted down from the sky. He might have thought he was dreaming, if he'd ever dreamed before. Bay and green were not quite so common where he was from. Frankly, it was perfectly otherworldly to him in every sense of the word. He drew himself to a halt a few yards away, his eyes still plastered to the figure that stood so quietly she might not even have exited. His nostrils flared, drawing in some much needed oxygen to ease the pain in his chest, which finally heaved from the exhaustive run he'd taken. Suddenly, light a shooting star or a fleeting memory one didn't see coming, he stepped forward - his unnaturally long tail dragging along the grass behind him. Head tilted, he realized she'd been watching him. He couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed, for what was more natural than a run for a desert born like he? Oh, he was certain it probably seemed to her that he was running from something. He was quite certain that anyone would have thought some unseen demon was giving chase from a distance.

Swallowing, his voice came soft and reluctant from his lips, clearly unused for quite some time. "I am Bastille." It probably lacked the grace some of the grander introductions he was certain a female such a she was used to receiving. "May I ask your own name, Kem'falla?"Crystal blue eyes watched her for a moment, before he realized that perhaps she would prefer solitude to company. Would she not have approached him if she wanted to speak? How uncertain he was of etiquette and the rules of socializing. His muscles tensed for but a moment, the nervous energy gathering up again beneath the surface. "Sieks'ta. I'm not as familiar with etiquette as I should be. I hope my approach did not offend you." He remembered in the last herdland he'd trekked, that approaching a mare could be deemed offensive; taken as a sign of ill intent. Should he have waited for him to approach? It was strange to live in a world where he had to wonder such things. His father, Hades keep him, was infamous for his ability to both offend and not give a shit all at once. By all right, he should have grown to be like him. Luckily, Bastille carried his mothers countenance.

Bastille

@[Krone] It was great. I rambled a lot, so no worries. XD