the salt and the sea, aeris pony

[Cyprin]

An old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind His smile is mortal, withering and dying when it had only just reached the corners of his mouth. A hiccup of time, he forced amiability – happiness? – but the instant Cyprin tries to memorize it, the gesture is gone. It does not affect the softness of her expression as she searches the murky depths of his gaze. She ravenously drinks him in, even the baritone of his voice when he offers her a name that she shuffles to memory so that she may toy with it on another day. While he wonders whether he will ever need to know her, Cyprin desperately clutches to the idea that she will need him. It can all be a play on her imagination and hopes, but she is young and naïve; she doesn’t yet know any better. Warmth passes over her face like the tide when he answers her question, but then she steers her eyes away to look back at the gurgling river. Her mind actively gropes for a response as he observes her with a feeble grin returning. Connections wire the two statements and yet her mind scrambles with the truth behind it. ”Perhaps,” she finally says when her slit pupils dart back to him, agreeing with his sentiment. It crosses her mind to be similarly philosophical, but instead she attempts to peel back the layers to understand him. Her pretty head angles and the sun’s reflection splashes across her, rippling before she inches away. ”Why so lost?” It may only be in his thoughts, but something – or someone - lured him there, whether by memory or recent happenings. She inches closer by only a step, too afraid to bypass what they both may find comfortable so soon in their conversation. ”Then again,” her eyes briefly fall to the soil underfoot, ”Isn’t everyone a little lost?” She herself is in some ways, as are her siblings, the kingdoms… everyone. But she wonders if that makes it better, if it’s okay to be so lost when others are just the same. A slow breath is drawn in and exhaled when her gaze rises to him again, tracing his dapples with fascination. ”I suppose it depends on how lost you allow yourself to become,” she thinks aloud with an idle flick of her tail, surfacing from the corners of her mind, covered in cobwebs and the like. Offering another grin, she cannot help to ask, ”What do you find joyful? Where does your happiness lie?” She doesn’t yet provide an answer for herself. That would be too quick and easy of a turnover. And truthfully, she doesn’t yet want this to end. Cyprin lior and nayl

picture by Jiamin Zhu on pinterest


@[kensley]