06-19-2018, 11:37 AM
the secret of our world is written in the stars
Ilma strides into the water gracefully, somehow just as fluid and poised as she is on land or in the sky. Svedka’s cerulean gaze watches her fondly as the water billows from around her chest and barrel, soft waves spreading out from her movement and lapping against the gold and white of his shoulders and flank. She propels herself deeper, only the slender shape of her ivory head peering through the surface of crystal clear water. Ilma turns to face them, her movement perfect and flowing.
Svedka grins, stepping out into the deeper water so that his hooves no longer touch the pebbled bottom. The coolness of the water spills over the broadness of his back, a delightful shiver traversing his spine. His blush-colored nostrils flutter as he keeps himself above the water with long, strong strokes of his muscular legs, circling to the farther side of where Ilma swims.
He turns slowly towards the shoreline, his cerulean gaze flickering to the young boy and wondering his progress. The water is fresh and clear, smelling like lilies and fractling with the glow of the growing sunshine. There is a gentle laugh that reverberates in his chest, stretching his neck forward to nibble gently at the now-damp strands of ivory tresses that cling loosely to Ilma’s neck and head. “How have you been?” the stallion muses thoughtfully, pulling a piece of green lake weed that had tangled itself in the confines of her white mane.
Svedka grins, stepping out into the deeper water so that his hooves no longer touch the pebbled bottom. The coolness of the water spills over the broadness of his back, a delightful shiver traversing his spine. His blush-colored nostrils flutter as he keeps himself above the water with long, strong strokes of his muscular legs, circling to the farther side of where Ilma swims.
He turns slowly towards the shoreline, his cerulean gaze flickering to the young boy and wondering his progress. The water is fresh and clear, smelling like lilies and fractling with the glow of the growing sunshine. There is a gentle laugh that reverberates in his chest, stretching his neck forward to nibble gently at the now-damp strands of ivory tresses that cling loosely to Ilma’s neck and head. “How have you been?” the stallion muses thoughtfully, pulling a piece of green lake weed that had tangled itself in the confines of her white mane.
(be my escape)
Svedka