[private] i've never fallen from quite this high; Ruthless

[Pteron]

finger trips across my cheek----------------
----------------kiss me until i can't speak

Having just sent Adarra off to play in the woods, Pteron finds himself with an unexpectedly free afternoon. He knows that Reia had expected him to spend the time with their daughter, but the nearly-yearling girl is past the age when she wants her Da leaning over her shoulder while she plays. She’d made in clear – in nearly verbatim terms – that she was going to play with her friends and that he, Pteron, was not cool enough to hang out with them.

That he is too old for something had caused a brief bit of surprise, just enough that Adarra had time to give her father a peck on the cheek and dart off into the woods. Too old. A strange concept for the pegasus stallion; his own youth does not seem like it had been so very long ago.

A free afternoon is a rare treat; the winged tobiano has had few of them since the summer. It has taken time to adjust to his new position in the woodland territory, time that had had not expected. It grates him to know that Reia has made it easier, that her presence made his ascension – and his position – more sturdy. Who wants to contradict a dragon, after all? Especially one as powerful as his wife, as beautiful and elegant as she is heartless and cold? Not that she shows that to anyone else, of course. Pteron is the sole victim of her anger, the buffer between it and the rest of Beqanna.

So this afternoon, free of Reia, is better than most any other, and the blue-haired tobiano makes his way through the foggy redwoods with a lightness in his step that has been gone for some time. He is even smiling, and his ears prick forward curiously at the sound of hooves drawing nearer. 

“Hello?” he calls out, his baritone voice curious. “Who’s there?” The constant Taigan mist dulls most of his senses, so he slows to a halt, allowing his blue ears to flick about, locating the other horse as his body turns to face them.

-- pteron --