01-18-2019, 02:39 PM
and at once i knew i was not magnificent
strayed above the highway aisle - i could see for miles
He has odd timing, to be sure.
Hallein has watched most of the chaos from afar — the shifting of the lands, now unrecognizable; the cracking of the seal, the illness. Through it all, Hallein has watched, waited, for no reason in particular. Perhaps he was waiting for the return of the Deserts, or perhaps a familiar face — Vanquish or his adoptive mother and siblings. He’s yet to spot any of these things. The world is a different place.
It’s strange, then, that he would choose now, and here, to return.
Though he has always hated the cold — a side effect of being raised in the dry heat of the desert — he is drawn to the wintry island; the twinkling of the bridge, the reflection of the starlight in the water. He, too, was born of starlight.
As he crosses the bridge, his hooves dip into the white sand — still warm. A comfort; a reminder of his once-home. The blue-green boy doesn’t linger, instead pressing further into the island, crossing from the warm, white sand into the cold, white snow. Hallein looks around, taking in the ice sculptures, the cluster of horses skating on an ice pond nearby. A chill runs through his spine. He continues through the snow, dipping his head, antlers momentarily catching on some decorations hanging from the trees. He looks up once he’s untangled himself, and a shiny opalescent mare nearby catches his eye. She’s a little rough around the edges, he notices upon approach — scarred, a few feathers missing. He isn’t easily deterred, especially considering how little interaction he’s had with others recently.
As he steps forward, he begins to harness his energy, thankful for the night sky — first creating a small ball of starlight, then spreading it wider, further, until it becomes a twinkling blanket, enveloping Hallein and the winged mare as he meets her. The heat of the starlight eases him.
“I thought you looked cold,” he says, smiling briefly. “Hallein.”
Hallein has watched most of the chaos from afar — the shifting of the lands, now unrecognizable; the cracking of the seal, the illness. Through it all, Hallein has watched, waited, for no reason in particular. Perhaps he was waiting for the return of the Deserts, or perhaps a familiar face — Vanquish or his adoptive mother and siblings. He’s yet to spot any of these things. The world is a different place.
It’s strange, then, that he would choose now, and here, to return.
Though he has always hated the cold — a side effect of being raised in the dry heat of the desert — he is drawn to the wintry island; the twinkling of the bridge, the reflection of the starlight in the water. He, too, was born of starlight.
As he crosses the bridge, his hooves dip into the white sand — still warm. A comfort; a reminder of his once-home. The blue-green boy doesn’t linger, instead pressing further into the island, crossing from the warm, white sand into the cold, white snow. Hallein looks around, taking in the ice sculptures, the cluster of horses skating on an ice pond nearby. A chill runs through his spine. He continues through the snow, dipping his head, antlers momentarily catching on some decorations hanging from the trees. He looks up once he’s untangled himself, and a shiny opalescent mare nearby catches his eye. She’s a little rough around the edges, he notices upon approach — scarred, a few feathers missing. He isn’t easily deterred, especially considering how little interaction he’s had with others recently.
As he steps forward, he begins to harness his energy, thankful for the night sky — first creating a small ball of starlight, then spreading it wider, further, until it becomes a twinkling blanket, enveloping Hallein and the winged mare as he meets her. The heat of the starlight eases him.
“I thought you looked cold,” he says, smiling briefly. “Hallein.”
Hallein
@[Sabra]