the secret of our world is written in the stars
It is not long before she comes to him. It is like clockwork, the twins. The other cannot go too long without the other, so when she laughs from the shoreline, he does not hesitate to stride nearer to her, pushing through the water of the lake with broad strokes of his muscled legs. She brings herself to him, and when she falls by his side he is breathless from the quick swim from the middle to the shallows, his ivory and blue mane plastered tightly against the pale gold of his neck.
“Like what?” he asks, as if she was not him expecting to, “Did Amet say there is something there? We should find it - you know, just in case it’s dangerous.” He adds the last part as if it’s supposed to convince her to go searching for some mythical sea monster, and he grimaces when he realizes that he probably did the exact opposite. “Or, like what you said.” He bobs his head towards her, water cascading from his forelock and splashing down into the lake. “Kind and gentle. Probably reflective of the ruler at the time, and all that.” He noses her with his ivory muzzle, soft and damp whiskered lips tracing the white of her face meets the burnt-gold of her cheek and neck.
He wants to ask how she’s been, how the crown has been now that it sits upon the crest of her head, but part of him knows that she finds him for the specific reason that she does not have to be the Queen, and instead, just his sister. So he remains silent, his blue eyes curiously watching her with a small smile.
Svedka glances upwards as a voice finds itself on the summer air, his ears pricking forward inquisitively. On the shore, just a few meters away, stands the wild-looking mare he had seen before, his blue eyes widening as he turns to look at Solace excitedly.
“Hello then!” he shouts back to her with the same intensity as she had given him, leaping through the water without much hesitation and splashing loudly as he did so. Pale golden legs brings him up out of the water, his coat fully wet with the lake water still clinging to his fur. With a breathless smile he says to her: “Hi, I’m ‘friend’. You can call me Svedka.”
He gives the stranger a bit of a nod, lakewater running rampant down his ivory and blue mane, and pooling beneath him as it drips down his body. She smells of wood and damp earth and of musty fur, though it couldn’t be her that smells musty, because the woman’s coat is smooth and sleek with the summertime warmth. It is curious, and though most times he would blurt out his questions, he waits for Solace to join them. She seem to know this mare and perhaps she knew more about her than he did.
Svedka
@[keeper] @[Solace]