* * * * * * * * * * *
Confidence radiates off of her and it is almost infectious, even to the shier boy.
His grin grows when she claims she is the best. He is obviously not telling her something she isn’t already aware of! But it is true; the other kids hadn’t really appealed to Barrow in the way that Mazikeen did in the playground. In some ways, he doesn’t regret his quiet upbringing in the lush volcano land. He had made friends with the fauna and catalogued the flora. He had walked a multitude of miles along the ashen shoreline, had watched the waves bring evidence of adventures elsewhere as baubles left on the sand in the mornings. He had dreamed of the cold inside his veins yearning to break free, so different than the sweltering heat he actually lived in. He doesn’t have any regrets, except that he hasn’t found his first friend sooner.
Now, his excitement seems to make him glow from the inside out.
“That sounds like the most terrible time! He responds to her story about the world’s worst friend. Not even a single bit of advice given! Can you imagine the indecency of it all? “Lucky for you, I don’t have any problems to speak of. But if you do, I’m all ears.” Barrow’s blue eyes still harbor a playful light, but he tilts his head in earnest. If she has something to get off her chest he will listen until the stars glint as reflections in the river rushing beside them. The young stallion knows that is what friends are for.
Maze mentioning other colts gives him pause for more reasons than he fully understands. What else has she faced in the years since he’s seen her? Maybe her life hasn’t been all vibrant butterflies and rainbows refracting off of ocean-spray? Barrow knows, even as sheltered as he’s been, that everyone is not so lucky as he. He opens his mouth to say more when she asks him something he’d nearly forgotten in the initial delight of their meeting.
“Oh!” He bites his tongue in concentration, his eyes shifting to the ground between them and intensely focusing on one spot. Then he thinks better of it and backs up a few paces himself. Then he thinks even better of it and his eyes lift up to meet Mazikeen’s orange gaze. “You may want to scoot back a smidge. I don’t want to accidentally impale you this soon after finally seeing you again. Then I would have problems of my own.” Barrow’s lips quirk into a crooked but somewhat restrained grin; he’s only partly kidding.
The red colt eyes the riverbank grasses again and the ground starts to shift in response. A thin filament of ice begins rising towards the sky. But on the next gust of wind, a thick tuft of grass waves against it and snaps it in half. Drat! Dismayed but not discouraged, he tries again immediately. This time, the wind settles long enough for the filament to rise and thicken into a spear of ice. Barrow glances over the white filly’s head - sparing her a self-conscious smile at the same time – to look at a nearby maple for tree-inspiration. Like the maple, his ice begins to split into various branches as it climbs to a height just above their heads. He even concentrates long enough to add a few distinct maple leaves here and there (though only a few, it would be exhausting to fill the entire tree!).
When he’s done, he feels almost shy again. “Well, it’s not nearly as tall as it should be and not detailed enough.” Barrow eyes his creation ruefully, wishing he was further along in his mastery of his gift. “But I know it’s sturdy enough to hold you, at least.”
His grin grows when she claims she is the best. He is obviously not telling her something she isn’t already aware of! But it is true; the other kids hadn’t really appealed to Barrow in the way that Mazikeen did in the playground. In some ways, he doesn’t regret his quiet upbringing in the lush volcano land. He had made friends with the fauna and catalogued the flora. He had walked a multitude of miles along the ashen shoreline, had watched the waves bring evidence of adventures elsewhere as baubles left on the sand in the mornings. He had dreamed of the cold inside his veins yearning to break free, so different than the sweltering heat he actually lived in. He doesn’t have any regrets, except that he hasn’t found his first friend sooner.
Now, his excitement seems to make him glow from the inside out.
“That sounds like the most terrible time! He responds to her story about the world’s worst friend. Not even a single bit of advice given! Can you imagine the indecency of it all? “Lucky for you, I don’t have any problems to speak of. But if you do, I’m all ears.” Barrow’s blue eyes still harbor a playful light, but he tilts his head in earnest. If she has something to get off her chest he will listen until the stars glint as reflections in the river rushing beside them. The young stallion knows that is what friends are for.
Maze mentioning other colts gives him pause for more reasons than he fully understands. What else has she faced in the years since he’s seen her? Maybe her life hasn’t been all vibrant butterflies and rainbows refracting off of ocean-spray? Barrow knows, even as sheltered as he’s been, that everyone is not so lucky as he. He opens his mouth to say more when she asks him something he’d nearly forgotten in the initial delight of their meeting.
“Oh!” He bites his tongue in concentration, his eyes shifting to the ground between them and intensely focusing on one spot. Then he thinks better of it and backs up a few paces himself. Then he thinks even better of it and his eyes lift up to meet Mazikeen’s orange gaze. “You may want to scoot back a smidge. I don’t want to accidentally impale you this soon after finally seeing you again. Then I would have problems of my own.” Barrow’s lips quirk into a crooked but somewhat restrained grin; he’s only partly kidding.
The red colt eyes the riverbank grasses again and the ground starts to shift in response. A thin filament of ice begins rising towards the sky. But on the next gust of wind, a thick tuft of grass waves against it and snaps it in half. Drat! Dismayed but not discouraged, he tries again immediately. This time, the wind settles long enough for the filament to rise and thicken into a spear of ice. Barrow glances over the white filly’s head - sparing her a self-conscious smile at the same time – to look at a nearby maple for tree-inspiration. Like the maple, his ice begins to split into various branches as it climbs to a height just above their heads. He even concentrates long enough to add a few distinct maple leaves here and there (though only a few, it would be exhausting to fill the entire tree!).
When he’s done, he feels almost shy again. “Well, it’s not nearly as tall as it should be and not detailed enough.” Barrow eyes his creation ruefully, wishing he was further along in his mastery of his gift. “But I know it’s sturdy enough to hold you, at least.”
barrow
@[Mazikeen]