the secret of our world is written in the stars
The wild nights spent in his mother’s country has left a mark on the spirited stallion’s heart; he had felt a freedom there he had never witnessed as a child, and grew into himself more than he ever could have if he had stayed in Beqanna. Mother and father would dance in the sunset filled air with the rest of the herd, but once night fell and they found their peaceful night’s sleep, Svedka would sneak away and truly come alive beneath the stars. Being so young, the ivory and goldenrod stallion knew enough about midnight romps and stolen kisses beneath the silvered moonlight to be familiar with the idea of romance and fleeting touches, wayward lips and warm breath. He had come of age quite beautifully there in the open plains, beneath the moonlight and with flames painting him and his partners in gold and bronze. The wildness within him that blossomed those nights stirs within him, though a quieted flame instead of a wildfire, lingering in his sapphire blue eyes.
He is still young, still just a child in the ways of the world despite his experiences, and when Solace comes to him this night he is alone. She comes to him quietly, hushed and secretive for some nights he isn’t alone. Svedka didn’t enjoy keeping company by himself, and he would gladly welcome any who came to his willow in search of conversation - especially if it is one of beauty, starlight, and supernatural wonders. He and Corvus could talk into the depths of twilight, until the morning sun pricks across the mountain range, as innocent and juvenile as two friends could be. But some nights it is Solace at his side, the gentle queen seeking him for comfort and rest; a steady reminder of her own wildness, her own rugged spirit that rests within her, alongside the wisdom and knowledge she also harbors there.
“Svedka?”
Her voice is quiet on the stillness of the summer’s eve, the willow’s thin and swaying vines barely audible in the night air, whispering against each other. He had been staring into the stars, peering at them from between the tree’s fine branches and vines, watching as the starlight filters through the thin veil. His eyes turn towards the sound of her familiar voice, pale-gold ears flicking towards her. The pink of her muzzle pushes through the drapery, nostrils inquisitively sniffing. He smiles, stepping forward and touching the alabaster of his own nose against hers, huffing a warm breath in welcome.
“Sister,” he replies in greeting, his voice smooth and velvety as it leaves his throat. He lips tenderly at the soft flesh of her nose, inhaling the scents of her day that still linger on her skin. She smells of each edge of Hyaline, and the familiar tinge of ash that reaches his nostrils causes a tiny smile to flutter onto his face. Smoak? “Busy day, Solace?” He asks genuinely, wondering if she has sought him out for comfort and relaxation, or if more is bothering her tonight.
Beneath the willow’s many vines, the palomino and white stallion quietly grooms the Queen’s mane, gingerly picking at the mixture of blue, black, and white with his teeth like he has done for so many years.
Svedka
@[Solace]