08-23-2018, 07:07 AM
He comes along (of course he had), and I smile at him from over my shoulder. Arthas has been a figure in my life since I was a budding adolescent, and his constancy is something that I have become ever more grateful for. When he brushes against me in greeting, there are no fireworks, no brilliant chemistry. There is warmth though, the soft blanket of familiarity, and I have convinced myself that is enough for me.
There is no use longing for the impossible, after all. I was raised to be content with what I have, though it has occurred to me more often of late that I once had much more.
He mentioned Delta and Mary, and the thought brings another smile to my blue mouth. I am glad that he is the sort of father that interacts with his children. Another sign that I had made the right choice, I think. My own sire had been entirely absent, and so my metric of paternal involvement is moderately skewed. He'd only mentioned the children, I realize.
Arthas says nothing about spending time with Rey or Roseen. Has he not been? Or does he simply not want to tell me about them? The two of us have never discussed the terms of our relationship, but that is because I had never thought there was a reason to. I belonged to him, and so whatever he chooses to do I will tolerate. If he dallies with other mares I will welcome them as my sisters, much as I have with Rey. My mother had taught me from a young age that men are fickle and that only a fool would attempt to keep them monogamous. I'm no fool.
What do I do in my spare time, he asks me. It occurs to me how strange this is, that despite our two years together we know very little of each other. Of course, the me that he had known as a child is far from the creature I am on this autumn day.
"I've been running," I tell him. I step to the side as we walk, tilting one wing to show him the difference. Where I had once been curvaceous and well-rounded, my physique has become sleek and well-muscled. The last of my baby-fat, my mother would have said (i'm not even five, after all). Well, baby-fat and months of hard work.
"And flying. And climbing. Anything really." I could list the exercises that I had almost forgotten, the ones Uncle Castile had taught me. Mother had insisted I learn them, and it has taken nearly a half-decade for me to be grateful. As a girl, sweating was gross but as a woman it is a sheen of proof of my labor.
Ahead of us is the stream, and I lower my head when I am fetlock deep in the cool water. It is icy cold, flowing down from Hyaline, and I drink slowly. When I have had just enough to quench my thirst and wet my lips, I reach out to Arthas. I press my chilled muzzle to his shoulder with a playful smile before I speak.
"I've got another mile to run. I could meet you back here, or you could come with me?"
There is no use longing for the impossible, after all. I was raised to be content with what I have, though it has occurred to me more often of late that I once had much more.
He mentioned Delta and Mary, and the thought brings another smile to my blue mouth. I am glad that he is the sort of father that interacts with his children. Another sign that I had made the right choice, I think. My own sire had been entirely absent, and so my metric of paternal involvement is moderately skewed. He'd only mentioned the children, I realize.
Arthas says nothing about spending time with Rey or Roseen. Has he not been? Or does he simply not want to tell me about them? The two of us have never discussed the terms of our relationship, but that is because I had never thought there was a reason to. I belonged to him, and so whatever he chooses to do I will tolerate. If he dallies with other mares I will welcome them as my sisters, much as I have with Rey. My mother had taught me from a young age that men are fickle and that only a fool would attempt to keep them monogamous. I'm no fool.
What do I do in my spare time, he asks me. It occurs to me how strange this is, that despite our two years together we know very little of each other. Of course, the me that he had known as a child is far from the creature I am on this autumn day.
"I've been running," I tell him. I step to the side as we walk, tilting one wing to show him the difference. Where I had once been curvaceous and well-rounded, my physique has become sleek and well-muscled. The last of my baby-fat, my mother would have said (i'm not even five, after all). Well, baby-fat and months of hard work.
"And flying. And climbing. Anything really." I could list the exercises that I had almost forgotten, the ones Uncle Castile had taught me. Mother had insisted I learn them, and it has taken nearly a half-decade for me to be grateful. As a girl, sweating was gross but as a woman it is a sheen of proof of my labor.
Ahead of us is the stream, and I lower my head when I am fetlock deep in the cool water. It is icy cold, flowing down from Hyaline, and I drink slowly. When I have had just enough to quench my thirst and wet my lips, I reach out to Arthas. I press my chilled muzzle to his shoulder with a playful smile before I speak.
"I've got another mile to run. I could meet you back here, or you could come with me?"
