The falling rain washes away the burning salt in his eyes and nose. It plasters his teal mane along his pale neck and clumps his bicolored feathers. He is bedraggled and breathing heavily, his heart racing as he shakes away his waterlogged forelock to glance up and down the beach,
Aquaria is there, looking rather startled, and the young stallion grins without thinking, the sight of the pale mare brightening his thoughts and expression. “Aquaria!” He says as he ambles forward, “I’ve missed you!” Expressing fondness has always come easily to the pegasus. He’d grown up around verbal effusiveness and a plethora of talking about feelings.
She asks if he is alright and Pteron nods and laughs, stretching out first his left wing and then the right, the appendages moving quickly and without effort as a demonstration of his fitness. Her face is obscured by the falling rain, and he rotates his wings so that they are just above his head and black the rain for a few feet in front of him with their size.
Pteron steps forward to cover her as well, just as the rain begins to pour down harder. The thunk of water on the feather roof overhead becomes a consistent chatter, but the water is warm even this time of year, and Pteron is otherwise comfortable as he meets the amethyst eyes of the nereid with far less distance between them than had existed a moment ago.
“I’m happy to see you too.” He says, growing quieter with each word as he realizes he no longer needs to raise his voice to be heard over the rain and surf. She could probably hear him if he whispered, Pteron thinks, and lowers his voice further to avoid shouting in her ear. The last sentence had ended on a low murmur, and he continues in the same low, nearly conspiratorial tone.
“You called me a terrible flirt, last time.” He grins at the reminder, and then twisting the original meaning of her words, adds: “So I had to spend a lot of time practicing. You’ll have to tell me if I’m making any progress.”
Despite their nearness and the teasing tone of his voice, Pteron makes no move closer, and indeed even pulls away a bit to ask with a grin: “I take it this is a bad day for you to show me the coral reefs?”
Aquaria is there, looking rather startled, and the young stallion grins without thinking, the sight of the pale mare brightening his thoughts and expression. “Aquaria!” He says as he ambles forward, “I’ve missed you!” Expressing fondness has always come easily to the pegasus. He’d grown up around verbal effusiveness and a plethora of talking about feelings.
She asks if he is alright and Pteron nods and laughs, stretching out first his left wing and then the right, the appendages moving quickly and without effort as a demonstration of his fitness. Her face is obscured by the falling rain, and he rotates his wings so that they are just above his head and black the rain for a few feet in front of him with their size.
Pteron steps forward to cover her as well, just as the rain begins to pour down harder. The thunk of water on the feather roof overhead becomes a consistent chatter, but the water is warm even this time of year, and Pteron is otherwise comfortable as he meets the amethyst eyes of the nereid with far less distance between them than had existed a moment ago.
“I’m happy to see you too.” He says, growing quieter with each word as he realizes he no longer needs to raise his voice to be heard over the rain and surf. She could probably hear him if he whispered, Pteron thinks, and lowers his voice further to avoid shouting in her ear. The last sentence had ended on a low murmur, and he continues in the same low, nearly conspiratorial tone.
“You called me a terrible flirt, last time.” He grins at the reminder, and then twisting the original meaning of her words, adds: “So I had to spend a lot of time practicing. You’ll have to tell me if I’m making any progress.”
Despite their nearness and the teasing tone of his voice, Pteron makes no move closer, and indeed even pulls away a bit to ask with a grin: “I take it this is a bad day for you to show me the coral reefs?”