Gale
11-16-2019, 08:36 AM
The decision to leave the Resort has not been an easy. But a day trip away from the sunny island won’t be so bad; he can be back at his cove by sunset. This the brindled stallion reminds himself as he drifts across Beqanna, borne by the cool spring winds. He’d grown no winter coat, not in the sand and sunshine of his tropical home, and the blue and cream of his exposed skin pebbles in the cold. It is warmer, even if barely so, when he reaches the ground, but snow still falls around him. Fluffing out the feathers of his white wings, the young horse uses them as a shield against the cold.
There are other horses around, he finds, but none he recognizes. That is to be expected, but some part of him had still hoped for one of those flashes of familiarity that he is certain are memories returning to him. The mention of Loess had been one such flash, though he cannot quite recall why, nor can he summon the courage to go there. Not yet, anyway, not when he doesn’t know what he might find there.
Better for now to stay at the Island Resort, where the peace and relaxation he had been promised is plentiful, and where mangos grow year-round. There are certainly no mangoes here in the snowy meadow, but there is something else that brings a smile to his face. A brown mare, spinning in the snow, clearly enthralled with the falling flakes. She looks happy, truly happy, and for a moment he watches the sky through her eyes, and feels the same elation. An idea comes to him, and his brow furrows in concentration.
The snowflakes that she sees should now be more than white. There are some the soft yellow of sand, and others the palest green of an unfurling fern. Others are as pink as coral or the turquoise of his favorite lagoon. It is not a vision he has woven before, and the colors fade as the snowflakes settle on the ground. He watches from a distance, eager to see her reaction; hopeful that she keeps on spinning and laughing in delight.
@[Bean]
There are other horses around, he finds, but none he recognizes. That is to be expected, but some part of him had still hoped for one of those flashes of familiarity that he is certain are memories returning to him. The mention of Loess had been one such flash, though he cannot quite recall why, nor can he summon the courage to go there. Not yet, anyway, not when he doesn’t know what he might find there.
Better for now to stay at the Island Resort, where the peace and relaxation he had been promised is plentiful, and where mangos grow year-round. There are certainly no mangoes here in the snowy meadow, but there is something else that brings a smile to his face. A brown mare, spinning in the snow, clearly enthralled with the falling flakes. She looks happy, truly happy, and for a moment he watches the sky through her eyes, and feels the same elation. An idea comes to him, and his brow furrows in concentration.
The snowflakes that she sees should now be more than white. There are some the soft yellow of sand, and others the palest green of an unfurling fern. Others are as pink as coral or the turquoise of his favorite lagoon. It is not a vision he has woven before, and the colors fade as the snowflakes settle on the ground. He watches from a distance, eager to see her reaction; hopeful that she keeps on spinning and laughing in delight.
@[Bean]