12-27-2017, 09:04 PM
the night is my companion, and solitude my guide.
His touch is gentle upon her silvered skin; he is almost delicate with her as he guides her deeper into Loess, hushed and quiet as they enter together. Augusta finds comfort within every glimmer of his sparkling muzzle against her flesh, warm and as smooth as the stones at the bottom of the river, and as strong as the current there. He is resilient and stoic in the way he comes to a halt beside her, his eyes reflecting the gentle light of the orbs that float gently before them.
He is unsure, which breaks her smile for a moment as it fades into concern, quick to step closer to him and brush her charcoal lips against the one alighted in his mane, proving to him the harmlessness in her ability. “I like to think so,” she murmurs into his neck, the thickness of his mane tickling against her own breath, concern still flowering within the irises of her storm-grey irises. The orb within his mane bounces at her touch, and she removes her muzzle from him with the tiny light perched on the bridge of her nose. She lifts her slender head, nose to the sky, and the star floats away from her, continuing onwards instead of hovering lazily at their ankles like the others.
“I forgot I could do that,” she whispers aloud, her eyes hold a mixture of thoughtfulness and sadness as the orb disappears into the night-strewn sky. When had she last created her light - chasing away shadows and replacing them with her own creation? Her shadows - bringing the darkness out on her own accord, with its own shape and power? Her shadow prince had told her she hadn’t needed them - her light and her shadow, because she had him. She wonders what else she could remember, if she only flexed the muscles in her mind into memory, but suddenly feels extremely timid. With a gentle smile, she lowers her head to look at the handsome stallion before her, noticing that the soft slope of her shoulder is still tucked in perfectly behind the muscularity of his own. Her eyes fall downward to focus on tending to the dark and tangled parts of his mane with her lips.
“Ivar?” She pauses to whisper his name, hesitant as her voice leaves her lips. “will I be alone if I stay here?” Are there others? Will you be here?
He is unsure, which breaks her smile for a moment as it fades into concern, quick to step closer to him and brush her charcoal lips against the one alighted in his mane, proving to him the harmlessness in her ability. “I like to think so,” she murmurs into his neck, the thickness of his mane tickling against her own breath, concern still flowering within the irises of her storm-grey irises. The orb within his mane bounces at her touch, and she removes her muzzle from him with the tiny light perched on the bridge of her nose. She lifts her slender head, nose to the sky, and the star floats away from her, continuing onwards instead of hovering lazily at their ankles like the others.
“I forgot I could do that,” she whispers aloud, her eyes hold a mixture of thoughtfulness and sadness as the orb disappears into the night-strewn sky. When had she last created her light - chasing away shadows and replacing them with her own creation? Her shadows - bringing the darkness out on her own accord, with its own shape and power? Her shadow prince had told her she hadn’t needed them - her light and her shadow, because she had him. She wonders what else she could remember, if she only flexed the muscles in her mind into memory, but suddenly feels extremely timid. With a gentle smile, she lowers her head to look at the handsome stallion before her, noticing that the soft slope of her shoulder is still tucked in perfectly behind the muscularity of his own. Her eyes fall downward to focus on tending to the dark and tangled parts of his mane with her lips.
“Ivar?” She pauses to whisper his name, hesitant as her voice leaves her lips. “will I be alone if I stay here?” Are there others? Will you be here?
@[Ivar]