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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    with the birds i'll share this lonely view | svedka
    #1
    and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
    ----------------tell me: who do i run to?

    Though Pteron cannot forget the electrifying night that they had spent together or the promise to seek him out, the dun stallion has spent weeks beneath the Tephran sky before he seeks out Svedka.

    There existed no temptation strong enough to pull Pteron from Aegean’s side, not as the birth of their children drew nigh. Then had been birth itself, and the sudden existence of two small creatures who are reliant on him in a wholly overwhelming way. Overwhelming and wonderous, so marvelous that he has not taken his eyes off them. The time spent alone in the jungle, just the four of them, is a blissful memory. That he will return to them soon brings a smile to his face. Perhaps Asena will be awake when he arrives at the nest, and he can show her the newly fledged toucans he had stumbled across.

    For now though, the toucans and his family rest, and Pteron has other things on his mind.

    He has caught the palomino’s scent a time or two, enough to know that the other horse is here. Never near enough that Pteron could call out for him though, but tonight that will change. He is no hound, but as he’d stepped out onto the beach that faces Ischia, the salt air had been thick with a familiar scent.

    “@[Svedka]” he calls out, his voice pitched to carry toward the creature that is silhouetted against a beautiful sunset. The soft forest floor gives way to soft sand beneath his hooves, and then to firmer sand as the water washes over his ankles. “I always forget that most places have beaches,” the blue-haired stallion muses aloud, his eyes on the water and then the brilliantly orange and purple sky. “You should include the beach as a benefit the next time you lure someone to Tephra.” Though he does not look at Svedka as he says this, there is a mischievous grin on his dark mouth at the lighthearted accusation.

    -- pteron --

    #2

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    The patched gold and ivory stallion spent most of his time in Tephra near the beach; water always called to him and perhaps because he couldn’t fly, he preferred swimming. Moments have passed and though he has kept himself busy, it was hard to forget the teal-winged man from the forest. Svedka found his cerulean gaze flickering up the sky, gazing for some kind of movement throughout the smoke and clouds that would signify the presence that he had been dreaming of seeing again. He hadn’t and for the past few days he had been contemplating if it was time for him to seek out Pteron himself, as he had promised.

    Of course, Svedka is wading through the various tide pools that had been left out in the open from the retreating tide, dampening his hooves in the lukewarm water and watching the tiny silvered fish that were trapped there amongst broken shells and hermit crabs. Deep orange and red violet plumeria flowers are strewn down the white and sky blue of his mane in a loose and nearly undone braid that Kagerus had humorously done for him nights ago, their bright color matching the sun’s light as it reflects off the atmosphere as it lowers towards the horizon. A voice calls his name, the sound carried to him on the warm and salted sea wind.

    Immediately, Svedka’s pink lips turn into a lopsided grin, leaving his pools to trot eagerly into the calm surf where Pteron stood. He falls beside him with the scent of sea on his skin, just now having drip-dried from an evening swim in the dark ocean. Svedka’s pink nose wrinkles and then a laugh escapes him, bobbing his head. “Oh? I assure you, there are many benefits of being in Tephra besides watching the sunset over the beach.” He grins wickedly, taking this moment to side-step closer to the winged man.

    As dusk surrounds them, the onset of evening sets Svedka’s skin to tingling. “Out patrolling again, are we? Or am I lucky enough for you to have found me on your night off?”

    svedka




    @[Pteron]
    #3
    and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
    ----------------tell me: who do i run to?

    The water against his legs is warm, and Pteron feels his hooves sinking deeper with each slow brush of the tide. The sensation is one that he’d nearly forgotten, and he revels in it while he waits for Svedka to join him in the shallows. Would I be buried entirely if I never moved, he’d once asked, and received only a musical laugh in return. The question reoccurs to him now, and the dun stallion raises his hooves so he never sinks too low.

    Svedka smiles beside him, smelling of the ocean and the flowers that are twined in his hair. Whoever had put them there was a patient creature, and Pteron finds the effort devoted as intriguing as they way they draw attention to the soft silk of Svedka’s mane. When the golden stallion laughs and speaks of Tephra’s many benefits, Pteron’s smile widens.

    “Oh are there?” Pteron asks, casting a long glance from beneath his forelock. “I’ve not taken the official tour of the place, so the only benefits I’ve seen are the beaches. And the flowers, I suppose.” His expression is playful and his tone is exaggeratedly pensive. He’s truthful when he speaks; Pteron has always turned down the opportunity to see the whole of the kingdom. That would include the volcano, after all.

    “You’re in luck,” answers the pegasus. “Though now that you mention it, I think I might like to hear about these benefits.” His brows raise suggestively, and he carefully extends his near wing so that a single hard-silk feather brushes against Svedka’s side. “Perhaps you can tell me of them after a run? I am fond of running along the beach at night, and have not been able to in some time.” Why that is he leaves unspoken – Svedka already knows that he has called the many places home.

    Pteron takes a step closer, only to pivot his hind end away so he might face down the shoreline instead of the distant islands of Ischia and Island Resort.  His head tilts inquisitively, and his striped brow raises in a question that matches well with the gentle dare in his olive eyes. Shall we, he ask without words.

    @[Svedka]

    -- pteron --

    #4

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    He’s at home beside the water and once he’s beside Pteron he breathes a heavy sigh as the ocean laps at his ivory legs. There’d been a time in Hyaline where he had made his roost beneath the shade of a swaying willow tree that leaned out across over the crystalline lake at its center. The lake was never as rough as the seas in his homeland of Tephra, but the overo stallion enjoyed the vast differences in scenery; especially a scenery that involved the winged stallion beside him.

    Svedka’s eyes meet his with a sparkling laugh, lifting his chin ever so slightly as to model the flowers braided carefully through his mane for him. “Then I suspect you should be given an official tour.” He pauses, allowing the sound of the ocean to overtake him but only for a moment. “Not that I’m a diplomat or anything,” Svedka adds with a wrinkle of his nose, “I’m not one to take on such responsibilities, if you couldn’t tell.” He laughs, reaching forward to playfully tug at the flaxen and teal tendrils of Pteron’s mane that is saturated with salty ocean spray.

    “Hear? I’d much rather show you,” Svedka’s jovial voice quickly turns sultry as he reaches once again towards him, but places his lips firmly at the base of Pteron’s creamy throat. The overo stallion dances away, the ocean stirring angrily against his prancing legs. He flicks his tail against his hind, snorting sharply at the idea of a run across the beach that is now tainted orange and yellow with the Tephran sun’s dying light. Svedka paws at the darkening water beneath them, splashing and frothing. “A run sounds heavenly.”

    He does not wait for any words from Pteron; instead, the stallion leaps forward, falling into an easy gallop just along where the sand meets the sea. He’s laughing as he streaks down the beach, splashing into shallow pools of lukewarm water and then back into damp sand again, kicking out his back legs. Perhaps it will be a race between the two, but Svedka has no finish line in mind and he cannot help how the salty sea wind and the rolling ocean fill him with such wildness and freedom.

    There is a bend in the near distance where the looming volcano stands and Svedka quickly decides that the black sand beach beneath its shadow will be their first stop. He neighs loudly to Pteron in order to be heard over their thundering hooves and the beating of the waves against the shoreline, petals of burnt orange and violet spiraling out behind him as they become unwoven from his mane in his wild running.

    svedka




    @[Pteron]
    #5
    and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
    ----------------tell me: who do i run to?

    It is difficult to feel anything less than joyful near the golden stallion and his laughing eyes. Even the flippancy with which he treats his beloved responsibility (Pteron loves the weight of it, the sense of direction it gives him) does not dim the smile that is reflected on Pteron’s face. The weight that the dun stallion finds comforting does not settle well on all creatures, and he is not at all surprised to hear Svedka admit that it is true for himself. No, Pteron thinks as he makes a quarter-hearted effort to avoid Svedka’s playful nip, he cannot imagine Svedka doing something as dull as diplomatic work, even if the other man is impossibly charming.

    The second time, Pteron dos not pull away, stilled by the sultry shift in the other’s voice as he draws closer, and presses a fleeting kiss to the tender skin of his throat.

    Then Svedka is dancing away, and the wave of desire that had washed over Pteron draws back like the tide at his hooves. It will come back, he knows, like the waves always do, growing stronger as they climb farther up the sands of the beach. Some of it lingers like the saltwater on his skin, and he tosses his head with a laugh while he tells the other to “Lead the way.”

    This beach is not one he knows well. That would usually slow him, a canter rather than a headlong gallop, wary of uneven ground. Not tonight though, not when he follows Svedka down the shore. That he trusts the other so implicitly never strikes him as strange; the blue haired creature is family, however distant, and Pteron trusts family.

    Most of the petals stream by, but Pteron snaps playfully at a few of them as he keeps pace behind the white and golden stallion. The breeze against his skin heralds the coming coolness of night, but his body warms with exertion. The winged stallion is not quite ready to stop when they reach the place that Svedka has indicated. He does eventually slow to a canter and then to a trot, making a wide circle about that ends with him facing the other man. He is also (conveniently) not looking at the volcano that looms behind him.

    He does intend to take the tour that Svedka had indicated, but that’s no reason to stare overlong at that thing which has caused his family much misery. Pteron is hardly even cognizant of it, and much pf his looking in the opposite direction is to lay eyes on the overo.

    @[Svedka]

    -- pteron --

    #6

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    With a breathless smile and a heavily beating heart, Svedka begins to slow his wild sprint, throwing his head up into the air before planting his forelegs firmly into the black sand. He kicks his heels a few times before finally coming to a halt, nostrils flaring with exertion while the same joyous smile plays on the pearl of his lips. His blue and flaxen braid is completely undone by this point, leaving him with salt-dried tendrils that are tangled and haphazard across the champagne portion of his neck (something that Kagerus would perhaps smooth for him later, if he asks nicely) and a thick forelock veiling the mischievous sparkle in his cerulean eyes. He doesn’t take his gaze of Pteron as the blue and cream tobiano comes to stand before him, playfully snaking his head forward to lip gently at the air just beneath the other’s neck, missing by inches purposefully.

    Here, the sand of the beach is painted black with the constant ash and smoke that plumes vigorously from the volcano’s open heart. It is nearly like onyx, even glittering like a gemstone beneath sun and moonlight alike, except it still remains as soft and loose as the sand further down the beach. “Come on,” Svedka encourages with a soft voice, almost secretively as he trots a little further in from the waves, his nose low to the ground. He is searching for something.

    Just before the shade of the treeline, midway between the ocean and the jungle, he stops. He lifts his head over his shoulder to look at Pteron, a whimsical smile on his face. Just before his hooves, lays something as black as the sand beneath it, yet is polished and shining like glass. “The summer storms bring a lot of lightning,” he murmurs to Pteron, as if speaking too loudly will shatter the natural wonder below them. “And sometimes, if it strikes the sand just right, the heat and the sediment collide, fusing together. This is the result.”

    The shadow of the volcano looms over them, casting shade over their bodies as afternoon slowly begins to turn into dusk. The sand beneath them is dark beneath the light color of their bodies, sparkling dimly in the retreated sunlight. It is cooler here beneath the volcano’s crest, despite the deep rumble of magma that vibrates within the great mountain behind Pteron. The sea wind still plays against their skin, stirring wistfully between them. Svedka tucks his head, his gaze flickering sideways to glance at the winged stallion curiously. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” The stallion asks with a grin, allowing the musculature of his shoulder to brush against Pteron’s. “After tonight, you may never want to leave Tephra again.”

    svedka




    @[Pteron]
    #7
    and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
    ----------------tell me: who do i run to?

    The rapid thrum of his heart is a familiar sound, steady and reassuring and more constant even than the surf that tugs at his heels. It quickens as Svedka draws nearer, and his breath catches only to be released in a quiet laugh as the other pulls playfully back. Pteron is moving to follow him before Svedka even asks it of him, his olive eyes darting ahead as if he might find this unknown treasure Svedka seeks.

    All he sees is black sand, littered here and there with larger pieces of porous black stone and debris from the water. Inland, the black sand becomes emerald green trees, which climb all the way to where the ebony volcano climbs into the snowy clouds. The view is breathtaking, and Pteron drinks it in contentedly until Svedka finally pauses in front of a strange bit of shiny.

    Reaching down toward the black fulgarite, Pteron noses at it curiously.

    “It looks like coral.” He says after having inspected it more closely. The tobiano stallion has never been especially interested in the natural world, but he’s fairly sure that corals are just underwater plants. But maybe they’re lightning too? Svedka seems to know quite a lot about them, but Pteron will have to ask Aquaria about the coral. Surely no one would know better than a true creature of the sea. Thinking of the pale mare is not unusual, especially not of late, and she is quickly pushed to the side – worry over the future easily overshadowed in favor of the present

    There is so little he knows of the blue-eyed stallion. Yet he finds himself enthralled of the golden man, as eager as a colt to sidle up against him and feel the warmth of his broad shoulder.

    “We leave tomorrow, but you are welcome to try and convince me otherwise, futile as it may be.” He reaches down to smooth the sleek gold-and-white hair along Svedka’s nape, a smile pulling at the edges of his teal mouth. Even the nearness of the volcano is not enough to chill the warm sensation that blossoms in his core, a steady glow of happiness.

    @[Svedka]

    -- pteron --

    #8

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    The brightness of his cerulean gaze becomes all the more brilliant as he watches for Pteron’s reaction, an easy smile on the pearl of his lips. He watches as the winged stallion inspects it closely, admiring the attention to detail and the curiosity that flourishes across Pteron’s handsome face, finding it hard to fight the urge to sweep him up in a kiss right then and there. He refrains, but the thought does not easily leave his mind. “Coral?” he repeats with a gentle inquisitivity, but distracted by the closeness of the other; he is no longer looking at nature’s beauty at their feet, for he is staring affectionately into the wide darkness of Pteron’s gaze. “It does, doesn’t it?” Svedka’s voice is but a soft whisper, barely heard over the ocean breeze and its accompanying tide, but he didn’t need the world to hear him - only Pteron.

    Once again the cremello stallion offers Svedka a challenge (which, of course, he never will back away from) and the heated grin that finds his pale face is all the answer Pteron will need. The golden stallion arches his neck as he raises his head, brought to the movement by the lightest touch of Pteron’s teal lips to his nape, sending his spine into a deep shiver. “Tomorrow?” Svedka repeats breathlessly, that same smile lazily pulling at his mouth, a bit of sadness in his voice. Sweeping his lips across the delicate white-and-cream of Pteron’s jaw, he kisses him firmly and intentionally. Heat rises within him despite the cooler air from dusk trickling over them, wisping together their sun-kissed manes as Svedka steps in closer, the shining black jewel forgotten at his feet.

    “Then I don’t have much time,” he admits with a smile that is pressed into Pteron’s cheek, refusing to allow space between them now that they were so close. The rumble of the volcano matches the thrum of Svedka’s rapidly beating heart, warmth pooling deep in his stomach as he continues to trace the soft shades of cream and white on his skin, delicate and tender as his lips pepper down the winged stallion’s neck, then back again to his cheek.

    svedka




    @[Pteron]
    #9
    and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
    ----------------tell me: who do i run to?


    “Let’s make the most of it, then.” Pteron replies with a matching smile. Svedka has come so near that he is all that Pteron can see, and the dun stallion returns the delicate affection. By the time it grows more heated, the sun has fallen behind the distant islands on the horizon, leaving the two of them shrouded in darkness and the salt air.

    He slips away near midnight with a fond farewell. The spring breeze is cool against his pale skin as he makes his way back to where Aegean and their sleeping children rest, and after pressing a kiss to two pale foreheads, the winged stallion draws a wing over Aegean and drifts to sleep, dreaming of the adventure that awaits them, and of Svedka as well.

    @[svedka]

    -- pteron --



    @[svedka]




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