i see the way you shine; any

[bean]

Humble beginnings; nothing special, the natural byproduct of stallion and mare left to their own devices out in the nondescript wilds of some unknown land - maybe America. Until spirited away, like a changeling child to this place of frights and sights that kept her eyes opened so very wide in pure amazement. If it should have frightened her - it did not, she lacked a natural response to fear and usually just laughed, impolite and impish in her own right. She had no sense, please forgive her!

She - it is always a she - simple and easy to conjure out of sperm and egg and air, and about as light and daft as air too; was to put it plainly, brown. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Brown fur. Brown brown brown. Boring in looks, but not in personality or so she hoped. Then again, she didn’t care and had few cares in the world left to give. Everything sort of rolled off her like water on a duck’s back to borrow that expression, but it fit her best. 

Oh! Who is her? Bean, of course! Yes, an odd but charming name to match an odd but equally charming little character. Plumped up on good summer grass and some poor farmer’s hay field that Bean had happily munched her way through before taking a wrong turn in the woods that landed her decidedly not somewhere in America but here, rather. And just where was here exactly? She felt a touch of disorientation, almost like a bout of colic beginning in her belly until she overheard with one short eavesdropping ear the name of this place - Beqanna.

Odd name, but who was she to pass judgment on what was odd or not? Lest she planned on including herself in that same oddness and she did, because she stuck out like a sore thumb. Bean was as ordinary as ordinary could get! Downright small and plump too, in the way that most ponies are because they like apples and grass just a bit too much. No dieting for this girl! Nope, the head-to-toe-er…. hoof brown gal was just what she was - ordinary.

Back to Bean and Beqanna though —

It’s snowing and Bean is staring straight up into the sky with her neck stretched as far as it can go. Snowflakes catch on her eyelashes and get caught in the tangles of her hair. Snow even gathers on her back, like a nice cold blanket that she doesn’t feel through her thick shaggy fur. Soft murmurings of “Wow, wow, wow!” tumble from her mouth until they escalate in volume to the point that she’s snow spinning and shouting “Wow, wow, wow!” into the snowfall, sparing no thought to who might be watching or listening.

Bean, Beqanna.

Beqanna, Bean.

[Gale]

The decision to leave the Resort has not been an easy. But a day trip away from the sunny island won’t be so bad; he can be back at his cove by sunset. This the brindled stallion reminds himself as he drifts across Beqanna, borne by the cool spring winds. He’d grown no winter coat, not in the sand and sunshine of his tropical home, and the blue and cream of his exposed skin pebbles in the cold. It is warmer, even if barely so, when he reaches the ground, but snow still falls around him. Fluffing out the feathers of his white wings, the young horse uses them as a shield against the cold.

There are other horses around, he finds, but none he recognizes. That is to be expected, but some part of him had still hoped for one of those flashes of familiarity that he is certain are memories returning to him. The mention of Loess had been one such flash, though he cannot quite recall why, nor can he summon the courage to go there. Not yet, anyway, not when he doesn’t know what he might find there.

Better for now to stay at the Island Resort, where the peace and relaxation he had been promised is plentiful, and where mangos grow year-round. There are certainly no mangoes here in the snowy meadow, but there is something else that brings a smile to his face. A brown mare, spinning in the snow, clearly enthralled with the falling flakes. She looks happy, truly happy, and for a moment he watches the sky through her eyes, and feels the same elation. An idea comes to him, and his brow furrows in concentration.

The snowflakes that she sees should now be more than white. There are some the soft yellow of sand, and others the palest green of an unfurling fern. Others are as pink as coral or the turquoise of his favorite lagoon. It is not a vision he has woven before, and the colors fade as the snowflakes settle on the ground. He watches from a distance, eager to see her reaction; hopeful that she keeps on spinning and laughing in delight.

@[Bean]

[bean]

Bean’s merriment might well be as infectious as the laughter spilling out of her mouth or the smile that reaches her eyes and makes them bright, like the way sunlight flashes against mud - that kind of bright that it’s almost beautiful coming from something so mundane. But that’s Bean, ordinary! Her mad-happy spins continue as the snow billows around her in luscious whiteness. Or it did…

She stops, just for a moment —

Head thrown back in amazement and mouth parted in breathlessness. Giddiness makes her start to shake but it looks like the silly girl is just shivering. She’s not, but her happiness has no true outlet so it overtakes her body and makes it dance in hops and skips and spins galore. Bean has never seen colors like this! Not in snow but wow, it’s so magical! 

She’s back to laughing, smiling, and spinning in the snow. Snow that is colored in near pastel shades of yellow, green, pink and turquoise. Colors that she has never seen but the names rose up out of her brain like ghosts, murmured and unfamiliar. “Wowie!” She yells in pure delight before one more spin puts her face to face with someone else. No apology offered of course. She’s too distracted from the rainbow-snow by the shiny in front of her.

“Oooo shiny!” Bean screeches in amazement. It makes one question her bloodline and think there might be a magpie mixed in there somewhere from the way she’s staring at him. Yes, staring is impolite but Bean had issues getting schooled in manners. Meaning she lacks them, most of the time and just bats those big brown eyes until she’s forgiven or gets what she wants. It usually works… usually. 

Now she’s poking at him with her little nose, sniffing and snuffling. She’s amazed at how smooth-coated he is (smells like a he unless her nose is broken!) in the midst of winter. How is that possible? She looks like a 70’s shag rug that’s out of control! Finally she gives him some space, not much - she’s as invasive as kudzu, meaning she’s everywhere and into everything. “Did you see the colored snow?!” no apologies for the lack of volume control either but at least she’s speaking just below an excited about.

Bean also hasn’t stopped staring.

So shiny… so so shiny...

@[Gale]

[Gale]

He can tell the moment she sees the colorful snowflakes, though the knowledge does not come from watching them through her eyes. Rather, she radiates her happiness, and the pegasus is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. That she is not looking where she is going does not bother him, if anything he is enchanted by her unbridled enthusiasm, and the grin he wears is as bright as her own. Though his ears do flick back at the volume of her elation, he does not move away, not even as she runs a curious nose over him. He shivers, a combination of the cold and the hairy whiskers of her nose on his thin hide, but does not draw away.

Affection feel natural, and in that he does find a flash of memory. A close family, where physical touch comes easily and without thought; that is where he comes from. If only he could remember exactly who that family was. It’s easy to forget the frustration of not knowing though, especially when faced with this delighted brown creature.

“I did,” he tells her with a smile. “I made it.”

This close, he finds that the little brown mare does not smell quite like Beqanna, and he returns her curious sniffing with some of his own. There’s something different, like a place that is not a place, but perhaps was. She looks real though, and certainly sounds real, so perhaps that is simply what horses smell like when they are from other places. “I’m Blue,” he tells her as he pulls back, the name coming easily to him. It’s what he has called himself for the past six months, and it is the only name he knows. “What’s your name?”

@[Bean]

[bean]

Shiny, so shiny. My shiny. Because Bean has decided he is hers. Possession is nine-tenths of the law right? It doesn’t occur to her that she can’t just lay claim to another creature that is living and breathing. She considers drawing a tidy tight circle around him in the snow. Just a simple declaration of her newfound and sudden ownership. Alas, Bean behaves herself or hesitates and the moment for staking her claim has passed.

Odd, he didn’t shy away from her abrasive affection. Others do and Bean feels like a starved animal faces with a feast. She almost snuggles up to his shiny-shiny side but some modicum of sense makes her stay planted where she is, which is still right in front of him and close enough to bump noses and smooch and all those up close and personal touches that Bean is prone to doing despite the nips and squeals she gets in return. Nope, he stays put and she likes him even more for that. His admission about making the colorful snow just seals the deal. 

“WOW!” again, no sense of control - just pure shrill amazement that makes birds flap and fly away in disgust and others visibly flinch. Okay, now she takes a step to take in all that smooth shininess and oh! Hello birdy! He has wings! Bean’s mouth gapes open in amazement; the look in her eyes is full of appreciation. Enough so, she almost whistles appraisingly but that might be rude. Might be, she still considers it and she gathers up her tongue and loose lips and puts them back to rights in a smile so big it should split her face in two.

“You sir, are amazing! Bravo! I mean really, that was just… So fantastic!” the sentences spill out of her, like a river that’s broken it’s dam. Bean doesn’t ask how he did, even though the desire to do so is there. She figures magicians should keep their secrets and let the magic be just that - magic. Bean might ask him to do it again though, she likes spinning in all that cold fluffy color… oh! Now he’s sniffing her and well, that’s just nice. 

Her tail is swinging back and forth like a pendulum of happiness. Feelings manifest themselves in the physics for her. It’s probably why Bean can’t tell a lie. She’s just not convincing enough and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes is usually enough to give her away. But she’s focused on him, how he’s sniffing and smiling too and all this is a-okay with the Bean. “Hi Blue! I’m Bean, as in jumping bean, string bean, green bean… okay, maybe not green bean because I’m brown and not green but you get the idea. I can see why they call you Blue, wowie!” 

Oops, now she whistled. It probably sounded weird since horses can’t actually do that like humans can, like Bean even knows what a human is. Well, kind of… there was that farmer’s field of hay and his beautiful bountiful apple orchard. Oh the memories! 

@[Gale]

[Gale]

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and despite the ache in his ears at her shrill screech, Blue returns her grins in equal measure. There is something about her, about the way she unapologetically announces her every emotion, and that all of them are so positive, that draws him in like iron to a lodestone. As though he might catch some of her sparkling brightness and keep it for himself, simply by being near. The unabashed praise does not dissuade him from this possibility, and though she compliments a skill that he is just learning (relearning?) he cannot help but beam proudly back at her.

She announces her name, filling the space after with chatter that has him laughing despite himself. “Green Bean,” he repeats with a chuckle. “Here, look…”

Another furrow of his brow, and she will see herself – but differently. Her brown coat is suddenly emerald, as iridescent as his own. He hasn’t quite mastered much more than changing the color of things, but that he thinks he has quite well. Himself he makes a brighter shade of blue, sapphire nearly, before slowly releasing both shades.

“Green,” he says, and there is a finality in the nod he gives her, even with his still-present smile. “You will be Green, and I will be Blue.” Her passion for each other thing she has found gives him hope she will like this nickname too. It feels nice, to have a friend he can give a nickname, even if the friend is someone he has met only minutes earlier. Another gust of wind blows by, and he tucks his wings more tightly, and looks almost enviously at her thick shaggy coat.

“I’m cold,” Blue tells her truthfully. “My home is a lot warmer than this meadow.” Something tells him that it would be too forward to ask her back home with him already, especially if she happens to live in the Meadow. But he considers it, and, given her enthusiasm for everything else she has seen and done in his presence, decides to offer anyway. “It’s a nice place, a tropical island. If you don’t have anything else to do today, maybe I could show you?”

@[Bean]

[bean]

Oh he’s prettier when he smiles! 

Bean doesn’t think she has ever seen a prettier smile than his. Okay, maybe the stars or constellations - whatever those sparkly bits in the sky might want to be recognized as. Some I’m yes they make smiles, or she sees smiles in them like one sees shapes in the clouds. Because she can, because she wants to, because it’s just pure fun and silliness. 

Smiles though, seem to be as infectious as sneezes. Bean likes that. It makes him shinier, brighter, happier and her little magpie-heart just sings and sings as if no sorrow could ever touch it. Her ears crane towards the sound of his voice, captivating and boyish and so many other things that Bean has never encountered before. (Honestly, it’s a miracle she’s made it this far!) He makes her look at him, probably with a rosy tint because how could she see him as anything but nice and wonderful? 

Suddenly, there’s like a weirdness that settles against her skin. A faint buzz, a hum really. Maybe a tickle that causes a giggle to escape. Then she’s narrowing her eyes to see down the bridge of her nose because it’s not a brown blue to her any more. It’s green! The most shiny beautiful dazzling green that she’s ever seen! He turns darker, deeper, and just as dazzling in a shade of sapphire that puts real sapphires to shame.

“Wow! Just wow!” this time, it’s a little more hushed as she says it by the magic he’s done. She is almost rendered speechless as she tries to see more of herself, turning in a circle as if chasing her own tail. How pretty! The pair of them are like fine jewels unearthed from the deepest caves and dirt. She can just imagine it, hatching from a bedrock of crystalline growth to look like this…

“Blue. Green. I like it!” she declares happily before nudging his nose with her own. She doesn’t even mind that he’s still shiny and bold in looks and she’s back to just being a brown old Bean. Decisions are made then too, because she feels that this must be what friendship is like. Bean likes friendship, especially with Blue but Blue looks cold and Bean steps in closer.

“Yeah, you don’t have much fur on you like I do.” if she should be embarrassed to look like snuffleupagus wandered in off Sesame Street, she’s not. But her heart does constrict a bit at his truthful admission about being cold. It’s not like she’s a furnace and could blast enough heat on him to keep him warm - she’s too small for that. It’d be like trying to keep warm with a match, little and ineffective. Oh, he’s talking again… something about showing her an island…

An island!

“You live on an island?!” her face is incredulous. She’s heard of islands of course. Even seen ones that were rocky and gloomy in the middle of unforgiving seas full of storms, but nothing tropical and pleasant sounding as he makes it seem to be. “Nope, no plans!” she assures him with a grin and another nudge. “Well, except to see this island of yours. So what are we waiting for?”

Bean is the picture of barely contained excitement. Smiling. Bright eyed. Practically bouncing from one hoof to the other. 

@[Gale]