stars when you shine, you know how i feel
oh freedom is mine
Nashua knows the sound of regret. He can hear in Olena's soft voice. Nash knows the sound because he bears the weight of it. It's why the pegasus stands here on a beach instead of daring the waves, instead of flaring his wings and leaping towards the sky. His regret is a weight that keeps him grounded when Nashua has always been bound for the clouds. The salt air brushes past him - brisk and biting cold with the slightest tang of brine - and he decides then that if Olena ever wants help shedding herself of the regret that tremors in her words, he'd like to help her somehow.
Maybe, he muses, they'll take an adventure one day. He'll race her to the top of Tephra's volcano or perhaps he'll teach how to use the rising heat from the lava flows to soar higher than she has ever imagined. And then, just maybe, the pair will take an adventure beyond the borders of Tephra. One day when Nashua doesn't feel so heavy with grief or blame. One day when Olena has learned that she is a creature meant for the sky just as much as he is.
One day.
He turns his blazed face to look down at her, enjoying the way that was she was beginning to shed her shyness. It made Nash smile, so much so that it finally warmed his green eyes and chased away the last of his ghosts that lingered in their corners. "I don't know if I'm much of a dreamer," he admits. That was his mother. That was Yanhua. Nashua was the bold one. Nashua was the brash one. The striped stallion likes standing next to Olena because it reminds him that even if he isn't a dreamer, he is still capable of being gentle. He doesn't always have to go dashing off on some reckless venture.
The chestnut stallion is capable of moments like this - of staying still; he's been afraid of the silence since Loess. But the buckskin girl and the crashing waves beyond them remind Nash that he's capable of trading stories and remembering. He's reminded that it's okay to grieve and mourn what never was and what never could be. The world would continue to turn and Nashua starts to think he might be alright standing still for a few moments, even if he aches in the quiet.
"It doesn't matter that they sound nice," he tells her (though maybe it does). Nash knows he is not as elaborate or skillful as other storytellers but what he has always been told is, "what matters is the heart of the story." He studies her, curious to see what would be at the center of the ones she would tell. What she shares with him makes the young stallion look up and trace her blue spots with new eyes. "So you're a lionheart," Nash teases when he finally makes eye contact with her again. "A lioness of Tephra," he continues and reaches out with his maw to bump Olena lightly on her tawny neck.
Olena shrugs her slender shoulders as he pulls away and Nashua finally grins, his trademark wildfire smile that tugs towards one side of his blazed face. "Mine?" Nash banters back as he arches his dark neck. "Doubtful. But tell you what." He tilts his head, considering something. "Every story you tell me, I'll tell you another." He smiles, "but eventually, someday we're going to run out of those."
Nash watches her curiously, wanting to catch her reaction. "When that happens, think you'd like to go on an adventure instead?"
NASHUA
![[Image: jCdBK6.png]](https://img.nickpic.host/jCdBK6.png)
