08-28-2016, 02:00 PM
He is nothing like Spear.
Honestly, she had no expectation that he would be.
The differences between stallion and colt are beginning to mount in the spaces between his breathing and his heartbeat. She can hear the distant throb of that slick glistening meat inside of him; the lullaby of his being lulls her to a complacency that she has never known. There is something about him that makes her forget about Spear, and that is a hard thing to do because Spear grounds her to this earth - he is her life, and she is his. But him, ah… that is another story entirely that is still being told in the way she keeps her cheek tight against his sleek side.
Spark is never this brazen, but tonight, it feels right to challenge all that is proper and contained - to shake up and stir loose the very idea of order. It fed her recklessness, made her press herself into the girth of him as their silence stays the course, drawn out but comfortable until he breaks it with a whisper as he leans in close to her. She looks up at him, nose upturned, with one eye black and the other red; he asks if she wants to see something and before she can answer him, he has stepped away and the night swells with cold and loneliness like it never has before and Spark mourns the loss of him against her already.
She gives an audible gasp; there is soft teal light that gathers and swells around him. It moves like air, flowing over his skin until small pinpricks of more light burst into being; they twinkle and take the shape of the very constellations that line up above their heads and Spark is growing dizzy just from looking between the stars up above and those that materialize at his command. “I can see why!” she exclaims, though it is a soft exclamation for she is hushed by the star-magic he stands just inside of. Spark wants to touch it - touch him, but the way he stepped back from her tells her it is probably unwise to touch either the stars he creates or the mild heat rising off his flesh during the creation of them.
He looks beautiful and sad in his starry dress; isolated, even. A small black ear bends his way as he asks her for her name and tells her his; she slides her mismatched eyes towards him, still peering upwards through all that lovely teal light. “Spark, and Giver, this is so incredibly beautiful.” She feels a little silly - she, a foal still! - telling him that his gift is glorious, that she has never encountered the likes of such on this earth in her short time upon it. Spark thinks that there could never be anything as beautiful as this, and she cannot help the way her nose extends out to him as if to bridge the gap between that glow and him, but she knows they won’t touch - not while the stars spin and dance across his skin and the in the spaces between Giver and Spark.
The stars above pale in comparison to this;
“I’ll never be able to look at the stars the same way again,” she tells him, with a quiver of her lip.
Her sorrow is shallow, almost feigned, but there is truth that underscores the thing that she has said to him. For Spark, the stars will never be the same again now that she has seen them twinkle alongside his skin in that queer blue-green light.
Honestly, she had no expectation that he would be.
The differences between stallion and colt are beginning to mount in the spaces between his breathing and his heartbeat. She can hear the distant throb of that slick glistening meat inside of him; the lullaby of his being lulls her to a complacency that she has never known. There is something about him that makes her forget about Spear, and that is a hard thing to do because Spear grounds her to this earth - he is her life, and she is his. But him, ah… that is another story entirely that is still being told in the way she keeps her cheek tight against his sleek side.
Spark is never this brazen, but tonight, it feels right to challenge all that is proper and contained - to shake up and stir loose the very idea of order. It fed her recklessness, made her press herself into the girth of him as their silence stays the course, drawn out but comfortable until he breaks it with a whisper as he leans in close to her. She looks up at him, nose upturned, with one eye black and the other red; he asks if she wants to see something and before she can answer him, he has stepped away and the night swells with cold and loneliness like it never has before and Spark mourns the loss of him against her already.
She gives an audible gasp; there is soft teal light that gathers and swells around him. It moves like air, flowing over his skin until small pinpricks of more light burst into being; they twinkle and take the shape of the very constellations that line up above their heads and Spark is growing dizzy just from looking between the stars up above and those that materialize at his command. “I can see why!” she exclaims, though it is a soft exclamation for she is hushed by the star-magic he stands just inside of. Spark wants to touch it - touch him, but the way he stepped back from her tells her it is probably unwise to touch either the stars he creates or the mild heat rising off his flesh during the creation of them.
He looks beautiful and sad in his starry dress; isolated, even. A small black ear bends his way as he asks her for her name and tells her his; she slides her mismatched eyes towards him, still peering upwards through all that lovely teal light. “Spark, and Giver, this is so incredibly beautiful.” She feels a little silly - she, a foal still! - telling him that his gift is glorious, that she has never encountered the likes of such on this earth in her short time upon it. Spark thinks that there could never be anything as beautiful as this, and she cannot help the way her nose extends out to him as if to bridge the gap between that glow and him, but she knows they won’t touch - not while the stars spin and dance across his skin and the in the spaces between Giver and Spark.
The stars above pale in comparison to this;
“I’ll never be able to look at the stars the same way again,” she tells him, with a quiver of her lip.
Her sorrow is shallow, almost feigned, but there is truth that underscores the thing that she has said to him. For Spark, the stars will never be the same again now that she has seen them twinkle alongside his skin in that queer blue-green light.