[open] My home was never on the ground // any

[Clegane]

The call of an owl wakes him, his eyes blinking open to see that the sun has begun to set while he slept. Clegane turns his head to look westward towards the distant forest and horizon. Grey as the winter-wood but twinged with reflected pink light, his eyes lift towards the brilliant sky.

The gathering of grey feathers above his shoulders rustle as the muscles of his back flex and shift. Flight was a skill he had yet to master or even attempt, but on a night like this, the sky seemed all too tempting. He stretches out a wing tentatively, wondering how it would feel to be suspended by such flimsy things, wondering how he would even get off the ground.

He draws the autumn air over his tongue, searching for courage wherever there was a chance he could find it. But mixed with the scents of sugar maples and distant woodsmoke, there is something else. The thought of a night flights is chased away by the realization that someone else is near, and the young stallion shifts his weight to turn in the direction of the stranger.

[bean]

Oh the sunset is breathtaking! It literally has stolen her breath away and she has to remind herself to inhale and exhale like normal. Of course, passing out could lead to a good nap but it’s probably unwise to do so just as the sun is setting and the darkness crowds close, crawling out from under the trees and over rocks. 

Is she afraid? 

Not at all!

Bean is the hero of every story she finds herself in and a few measly shadows don’t scare her. Her ears twitch atop her head, between a puffball scruff of hair as brown as the rest of her besides a shiny obsidian-colored birdcatcher spot on her right hip. That came as a result of her participation in the latest quest, because every hero has to go on those just to save the day or have a great tale to tell. 

She has heard an owl hoot from somewhere in the woods and their calls are always interesting to listen to. Bean is reminded of the time by the river when she honked at a goose; naturally, since she lacks the ability to speak goose, it hadn’t understood her and pretty much ignored her. That doesn’t stop the little brown mare from hooting back at the owl. 

Whatever her own pathetic hoot meant or lacked in meaning, had shut the owl up momentarily and with a merry chuckle, Bean set off again. Only the little scamp ran right into the very solid brawny rump of someone else… oh hey look, a stallion! “My apologies sir,” she mutters to his arse before collapsing on her rear like a donkey with her forelegs splayed before for added balance and giggles spilling out of her mouth.

Oh Bean, you fool!

@[Clegane] couldn’t resist! ❤️

[Clegane]

Oh, how he would love to hear her stories. True or otherwise how he would fall into them without question, this boy who never had a childhood. Honking geese and mischievous misadventure were just the sorts of things he would go back and write into the story of his first years if he could.

By the time he is turning to see her, she has already run into him. A burst of air surges towards her, gathered from the grasses around his legs and sent in her direction before he has time to decide if he should or shouldn't. But it is nothing to harm her, blustering harmlessly about her ears and leaving a feather trapped in her coarse mane.

How could he not laugh?

Her energy is infectious, and before he has time to remember how terrible his smile is, it splits his pink and swollen face. She falls back onto her rump and he laughs again, but his laughter is honest and hearty, and there is no malice in it. 

"No need," he says, instinctively stepping forward to make sure she isn't hurt. The frost intertwined in his mane crinkles and lightly chimes with his movement, and his nose extends to her. "And you can call me Clegane... I've certainly never been called sir before."

@[bean] <333

[bean]

Bean thrives in a state of perpetual childhood; a lost girl that lives on dreams and adventures, and should belong to neverland’s ilk of lost boys. She’d lead them though, fearless and foolish and brave! Fighting peg legs and hooks where there ought to be hooves, and feeding clocks to crocodiles. Heck, Bean could probably charm the slippers off a fairy’s feet with just a look!

So, oh the stories she could tell him! If she only knew he starved for them. It was downright inconceivable to her that he might’ve not had a childhood. Had she known, Bean might have been touched by the heavy hand of sadness for the first time in her life because that was just far too tragic to have no joy in the formative years. Alas, she is spared the knowledge as if fate does her some small kindness, for now.

Suddenly she is buffeted by gusts of wind that came up out of nowhere as she sits there, looking silly and pleased all at the same time. The wind boxes her ears in the same fashion that her mother might have; chiding, she’s sure, for having run right into him like the fool that she is. She smiles into the gale that guffaws and paws at her but causes no harm, unaware for the moment, of the trinket left in her unruly hair.

(Later, she’ll discover it and marvel at how marvelous it is - a feather, her first! Caught, as it was meant to be, in a natural wind knot that’ll keep it entwined with a brown lock of hair for all time. It is the second thing in a matter of days that breaks up the monotonous brown of her, and she’ll cherish it for that.)

Bean giggles some more; it’s hard not to because she’s guessed by now that he caused the wind. This is such a magical place! Each horse that she has met is just something more, something special and he’s the same. Even as she raises her eyes to meet his face, not at all frightened or horrified by the scars that she finds there. Those too, just add further to his appeal and it his answering smile that makes Bean’s face light up like the moon, full and shining in its happiness.

Such a gentleman too! As he stepped forward to ascertain if she was hurt or not, and of course, she’s not. She’s just a silly little thing that had a good laugh at herself, and he did too, because she noticed his laughter, both ears charmed forward by the heartiness of it. Bean bops his nose with her own, just a quick little good-natured boop as she inhales his scents and blows out her own towards him.

“Well Clegane, sir or not, it kind of suits you. You look majestic with this glorious wings. Was that wind of your making?” Yes, Bean just steamrolls right over the conversation. Charging ahead, because he’s fascinating until she realizes that he’s probably expecting her to introduce herself. Well, she had been taught manners but uh, the execution of them was sometimes altogether lacking.

“Oh, I’m Bean by the way. Nothing as fancy as your name but it suits me, brown as a bean and quick as a jumping bean mama always used to say.” and just like that, she jumps upright though taking care not to bump him further because some horses are just funny about that and Bean well, she is a dirty little ragamuffin, and she just smiles brightly up at him. 

@[Clegane] ❤️

[Clegane]

He doesn't mind the way she charges fearlessly into the conversation; she doesn't give him time to think of what he should say or anticipate the awkwardness of that inevitable question.

(The one that always came up sooner or later, once they finally let themselves look at the thick and knotted tissue that wove itself across cheek and jaw.)

It's not that he minds talking about that, he just didn't want her to get that funny look in her eyes, the one they usually got when they found out how it happened. He didn't want to chase her away or make her sad - not when she's beaming up at him in this way. The way that makes him feel her joy in his own chest.

But where she leads, he is glad to follow. As the little brown mare admires his wings, he stretches one out so she may see it at its best advantage. The light bones flex and extend, the soft, grey feathers catch a pinkish glow from the sun's dying light.

"Thanks," he replies, and his happiness is easy to hear in his voice. Her first comment is on something he can be proud of, but it's a funny feeling and he isn't quite sure how to simply accept a compliment. "They keep me warm in the winter... but other than that I haven't gotten much use out of them."

His silver gaze returns to her eyes, and he thinks how he has seen others which were dazzling at first glance, but none quite so lovely. None that sparkle the ways hers do.

"I bet if you had wings you would have learned to fly before you could walk, Bean." His voice is full of playful confidence when he makes this statement because he has no doubt of its truth. "And... I like that name. I don't really need a fancy name like I guess my mother thought I would, but I'm glad you like it."

jumping @[bean] <3