And now you’ve forced the beast to bare its teeth
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Grains of sand were lifted by the breeze whipping the dry earth. The plains had been dealing with the grasp of winter. The liquid and life of the vegetation had been stripped out. As such it crunched beneath enormous hooves. Squeezing his eyes closed tightly to prevent the whirling sand from invading his crevices. There was evidence of life in this plain. Hoofprints, and scents wild and enticing. He had finally arrived. These were the lands that the olden gods had whispered to him about before the firelight.
Their shadows had danced and shivered promising power and elevation to the stars. Their excitement and hunger was palpable. A hunger that had seeded itself in his flesh, he could feel it gnawing and brewing within. It was all motivation for a greater cause, they would require his strength to gain hold in this new world. Their hunger had been rolling deep within, but their voices had been frighteningly absent on his long walk. They were merely sleeping, biding their time. He knew this discovery should please them; stir them from their slumber.
He took massive lungfuls of the air, tasting it in its purity. There were bound to be resources here that were not present within the city. Evidence of wildlife flourishing and tracks of all kinds could be seen in the dirt. He could see their paths intertwining in places and diverting in others. The other burning need within him was for water. Traveling had not been kind to his hydration with the scarcity of the precious liquid. He was a large beast who burnt a lot of resources with movement. The scent of rain on the horizon and a cool change drew a soft and relieved sigh from his lips.
Cool drops of water soon pelted his back. He opened his mouth accepting the life nourishing liquid, following the trails of the animals in hopes of finding a larger water source. He needed to cool off and he needed a lot more water than a few drops on his tongue. Even appropriately prepared for war and travel his mane and tail felt gritty with sand and perspiration. It would all need redoing.
His tail had been docked short, with a small thick growth of hair at the end. His mane had been bundled up into small tight buns that lined his large arching neck. He was an intimidating sight to be sure. Small drops of rain settled in the rock formations that littered his pelt. Scattered rock fragments glistened against his deep midnight coloured coat like stars in the night sky.
Hold me in this wild, wild, world
'Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
The saurian woman was more than just a little relieved to see the cave. She could resist the sudden flush if energy. Her flight carrying her further into the valley, her bright laughter melding with his own as he took off, yelling at her for cheating. She grins cockily at him, "I wouldn't call it cheating, just taking advantage of my assets." She retorts, her tone brighter with the idea of the promised warmth. She follows him in, shaking off her body, her wings rustling to dislodge the snow that cling to the weathered webbing.
She patiently watched him as he explained his way around s fire, his words intriguing her. She'd heard those names before, though no one had ever answered her queries about them, usually telling her to go to some library. She would have to ask him about these gods later, right now she wanted to know about the fire. She was curious of the two rocks however. More so when. He struck them together. The sparks had her eyes widen
He retrieved the torch, a stout branch wrapped in a kind of tarry gauze. From a small pouch next to it, he pulled two small objects, one a jagged piece of stone in muted gray tones, the other a curling rod of metal, perhaps iron. He held the items up for Pangaea to see clearly in the light of the cave entrance. She could barely focus on the explanation of sparks summoning fire. "Wait, wait. You made Rock Lights and produced fire from it?"
She pauses as she realized he likely wouldn't understand her reference. So instead, she used the claws in her less injured legb(or rather the injury not on the ankle joint), and with a practiced movement, she snapped and dragged the claws, the strength causing friction that left sparks in the wake, "We dance with those." She explains with a soft laugh, "Met to demonstrate beauty in the danger, to dance among the sparks. Rex taught me about it." She explained, "But I did not know they could provide warmth."
She follows him deeper into the cave. The slit style of her pupils allowing her to see better in the lower lights. This area seemed large but she was curious about wherebrhet wouls stay. His request to follow had her nodding as he suddenly slid between a gap of the wall and stone. She followed him, carefully keeping her wings folded tight, following the hallway at his heels, until they finally emerged into a room.
Pangaea feels relief as he lights a larger fire, her gaze glancing around at shelving, boxes and the likes she could only kinda see. And then the fire jumped to life, and suddenly she could see. Really see. Furniture and baskets filled with items, shelves of preserved items (the fruit immediately catching her attention . . . This wasn't some small sheltering cave. This was . . . Her gaze turned to him, confused, "Gareth? What exactly is this place?" She asks as she carefully lowers herself to the ground near the fire, poking at the wounds on her legs, wincing at the raw stab of pain, before she glanced at him, gaze still slightly skeptic, "Do . . You have any of those healing plants that could . . . Help with this. I won't lie, it's not been a fun walk. And . . . I'd like to see you work . . . If you'd be willing to explain what you're doing." She offers with no small amount of trust, as she flicks her tail, wings folding gently and her gaze curious about this 'healing'.
Hold me in this wild, wild, world
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes:. Awkward phone post.
Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Now draw me close
''I twist like a sunflower
At the sound of your voice''
She's grown more confident in her steps with Eomer and Cailerian leading her through the lands with the care she had received from both her brother and father. It's because of this that Elain has been able to explore more of the court along with the surrounding areas, though she's been more careful in how far she travels due to the snow. Even if the small albino wanted to travel farther she'd be honest that the idea of tripping in the snow was anything but a pleasant one (especially because God knows where she might trip.)
Standing outside Elain's tail is pulled close to her side while Cailerian presses against her and Eomer wraps himself around her in an attempt to keep the albino warm in the negative temperatures. Are you sure you're warm enough Elain? There's a concern in the snow dragon's question to which she nods with a smile. Yes Eomer, I'm pretty warm. She cranes her neck around to face her companion and gives him a soft nudge before she gives one to Cailerian as well. Elain, as always, takes careful steps but they aren't as stiff as they had been before; they appear a bit more natural (or ''normal'') though she still makes sure to check what's in front of her before she steps down.
There's a feeling of nervousness in her chest that she can't seem to shake no matter how hard she tries; she suspects the feeling is due to from an uncertainty that Reliquary will appear. When Elain had learned about the festival, receiving a letter that had been read to her, there had been a feeling of great excitement in her. The opportunity to experience a celebration in lands so new to her had been part of why the albino had so quickly RSVPed to the event. She had signed herself up for two things: The dance and foal-sitting, though she was honestly a bit unsure on if anyone would leave a foal with a blind kirin. She would also admit that she another part was the idea that she might be able to rope the giant Reliquary into going with her; after-all he had been the person she had ''clicked'' with fastest in Novus. Not to mention she would also feel safer at the festival if she knew someone else was with her to help guide her and keep her from injuring herself (or anyone else.)
She had taken sometime to think over how she would approach the subject or even send him a note to get in contact. Eventually Elain had settled sending Cailerian out to find him with a message asking him to meet her tucked under his collar. The kirin had made sure to get someone to write it out clearly, going so far as to even request them reading it back to her to double check. In all honesty she might have been pulling him out of his comfort zone in her request of where to meet and she knew it. Elain, however, had been careful to add that her reasoning of meeting by the Citadel had purely been because she was cautious of traveling too far in the snow.
So now the albino was carefully walking around in a small section outside in an attempt to keep both her body warm and her companions. She was pretty sure that the theory of moving around kept you warm was true, if not then she was simply benefitting from the warmth of the dear companions she had.
I'm ready to bleed to make amends And sleep in this dirt we call our bed So tell me your secrets And join me in pieces
To fall and rewrite the bitter end
The courtyard was warm in the early morning sunlight. Cold, frozen dew was starting to melt and evaporate. It amazed him that every morning this place was covered in a thin veil of frozen water. Not snow, but something else. There were so many situations he was slowly exposed to that he didn’t yet have the words to describe. Everyday there was something new to learn. Slowly, piece by piece he would understand his new home world. This was where he belonged.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that this is where he would land. Something deep inside churned, prompting him to hope that there was a greater goal. That all this turmoil hadn’t been pointless and random. Otherwise, how could he know that it wouldn’t happen again? That he wouldn’t be ejected from novus once he had become comfortable. Aeon was worried that he would wake up and be back there, back amongst his kin. In this world he could be someone, he was in control. There was so much more to life.
He would take each day as it happened, learning as much as he can. He would not allow them to send him back. He couldn’t go back. He sighed and closed his eyes, internally summoning his resolve. Liam and Bucky had taken him in, given him security and comfort. Novus had been nothing but kind.
“Are you out there somewhere Vespera? Is this what you wanted for me?” he spoke softly with his eyes closed. He didn’t expect an answer, to receive one would in fact be frightening. Understanding the interaction between one world and the next was complicated. He would have to learn more about Vespera and Terrastella.
He's tired. So very, very tired, and it reflects in the way he walks across the field; his hooves drag slightly on the grounds while his head hangs low. The way Mannon carries himself one could easily pinpoint the constant emptiness that lives inside his body. The man's head is empty as each step pushes him closer to his goal: Finding Ithilien. His brother, the last ties he has to a true home, the last of his family. He trudges through the snow in such a way that it easily announces his presence, the sound of his body pushing through it like a plow with crunching fills the air.
He knows she's not actually there, he knows that she's gone. Wholly, utterly, completely gone from the mortal realm and that Roheryn will never come back. He knows it, his heart knows it, his soul, and every inch of him is terribly aware of this. And yet he can't let go of her; Mannon clings to the memories of his late wife like a child clings to the shirt of their parent. The painted man knows that nursing his heartbreak is anything but healthy for him, oh God he's been reminded of that one too many times in his life, but she was his everything. No. No she is his everything, even now when so many years have passed by. Yet Mannon has never forgotten the softness of her voice, the caring lavender of her eyes, the ever gentle face that had tended to his wounds while she scolded him, and the soul that captured him like one would capture a firefly in the summer nights.
His mind was devoid of thought when he had first entered the fields but in this moment she fills every groove in his brain. He can hear her, smell her pushing him forward with the gentle touch of a breeze. Roheryn's memory tells Mannon that he can find Ithilien, he can make it another day, he can still find a life worth living. With a heavy sigh he pauses in his steps to look up at the night sky, to stare into the cold gleam of the moon as a pain strikes his chest. "Ten' lle Amin caela auta no' melamin." The words are whispered softly into the wind, his pale eyes close with a deep intake of the cold winter air.
"Talk." NATIVE LANGUAGE, HOVER OVER ME Thoughts Amarië
Tags » Voice » OOC »
I, whom loneliness destroys, let silence fall, drop by drop
It was with great hesitation that the warmonger pressed against untried boundaries meant to keep him well secluded. Unfortunately, it had been quite some time since he’d convinced himself to explore anything outside of the gnawing melancholia roiling deep in his gut. Whether it was an omen or premonition he didn’t know or even particularly care to indulge. Instead, that sense of stagnancy and foreboding had only served to contain and isolate him against any further progress consorting with his new Night Court peers. In truth, he still knew so little about their pursuits that it made no difference to him if he was included or not. Perhaps that particular ruin was simply something he’d fostered of his own accord, but stubborn pridefulness kept him from shedding the incivility. There would be more time for it in this long life ahead. There would simply always be time.
Over the previous months Boleyn had taken to a very strict routine of patrolling the outer corners of Denocte. He wasn’t in the habit of seeking or obliging conversation and often found himself shirking well-traveled routes in favor of avoiding any source of companionship. Shortly after his arrival in Novus, the nightmares he’d been tentatively freed of had returned in force. However, in Boleyn fashion, the warmonger sought self-deprecating resolutions in order to spare his newly acquired entourage the burning weight of his sleepless glare. They often took root quite late in the night and when they dissipated at dawn, Boleyn was left feeling angry and bereft. The visions seemed to persist into his mornings whereupon he would begin another fruitless circle around the sun, so to speak. Hence, the routine and the monotony until he could fully come to accept and embrace another restive night.
However, when the sun grazed the distant horizon on another day meant to expire like all the ones before it, Boleyn found himself tracing an entirely new pattern. He wasn’t certain the cause of the change or what tempted him to the frosty waterfront of Vitreous Lake, but the buzzing tremors of restlessness had grown only more insistent (especially with the sleep deprivation he’d suffered of late). The past had always threatened to haunt his future, more questions than answers leaving a bloodied wake, but they’d been manageable for the last few years. Until they weren’t, he supposed. Perhaps that was the problem with Boleyn. Perhaps he couldn’t convince himself to settle and face the ominous truths that reared up during his quiet moments of complacency. Maybe he was destined to keep avoiding them at length, so long as he remained in the dark about the things he was too fearsome to face.
What would have happened if his father hadn’t been killed?
Would Bolyen stand a King if he hadn’t?
Why was that something that had ever crossed his mind?
Power was a funny thing in the grand scheme of life. It wasn’t that Bolyen had ever had designs on leadership or the consequent admiration, but it was the fact that his father sought it so desperately for himself and his son that made the idea so alluring. It was also the fact that such power had also come at the price of so much blood seen and unseen. That was what kept Bolyen awake at night, plagued by dreams of violence and killing without vice. It was like the past couldn’t let him leave without knowing why the power his father so loved had been the thing that ended him and left no answers on the whereabouts of his mother. Even as he watched the soft trails of frosty vapors curl away from his flared nostrils, he simply couldn’t focus on the beauty unfolding before him.
At the height of winter, Vitreous Lake appeared an almost barren land made of glass. The silence that stretched across the snow-covered banks seemed to embrace even his own thoughts, muting them until all that remained was a blanket of indecision. The warmonger had come this far with no real intent or reason but found himself pressing toward the shoreline anyways, his messy twist of mahogany locks trailing behind him like blood in the snow. Were he a picture he might appear battle-worn, but Boleyn knew better… He couldn’t slay the demons that plagued his mind so well as the ones that walked beside him. Perhaps that was why he preferred that he simply walked alone.
I have been many things in this long, endless life of mine. A warrior, a killer, a lover, a mother—a leader. I have been all of these things but beyond that something else, something other. Never quite mortal, always on the cusp of divinity. A little predatory.
I come down from the mountains now like a wraith; like I am finally following some invisible thread that has been pulling me since I disappeared into them all that time ago. I am not alone. When I pass beneath the Arch, there is more than one set of new prints in the well-worn snow-covered path. There is a beast beside me, white as marble, as tall as I am. Fylax does not say much, but observes everything.
I come down from the mountains like a wraith, but there is no old home here for me to return to. I may know Denocte as well as I know each bead woven into my hair but the world is foreign now. The mountains have been home for too long, the quiet, the isolation. I am still growing used to the feeling of Fylax always being at the end of that strange, magical tether between us. I am always expecting them to simply disappear.
It is early, and cold, and the court is barely awake. I am always awake—I have always been awake. I draw the blue fabric scarf of my armor over my head, twist it about my neck. The ends flutter in a sharp, biting wind. A few faces pass. Most pay me no mind, but a few, oh a few glance once, and then twice, and their eyes widen and their mouths gape open.
Some begin to whisper. I pretend not to hear them, as I continue to weave through the streets. I have been many things in my infernally eternal life. Once-fighter, once-savior, once-executioner, once-caregiver. Once-queen. I have not forgotten, and neither have they.
champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
i roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of camels and a smoke alarm
She would be the first to admit she wasn't sure why she was still following them, but she was. One glance up, and he'd be able to see her ride the thermals, bound up cream curls flown back away from her face, the gold, and amber of her jewels glinting off the sunlight. However, the air was colder now, and even she could see the gathering clouds in the distance, the promise of a bit of snow later. A face was made at that thought. But, as they neared the mountains, she also knew it would be time to start thinking about landing.
Her gaze shifted, first towards the elk a little ways off, and then the area around him, a momentary silent scout for potential predators that may be watching him for a weak moment to leap. Deciding nothing threatening and worth her time was around, her gaze finally turned towards the confusing coffee and cream stallion below. Her yellow eyes watched him for a moment before she sighed and finally banked right. She followed the thermal down, twirling in lazy circles before beating her wings a few times in preparation for landing. She was hesitating, however, her gaze on the snow, trying to find the best way to land without disturbing the wounds she had reopened upon her departure into the air so long ago. But now, she needed to land again, which would be less than pleasant. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself and finally touched down.
Her wings swept back, arching out to slow her final descent with the grace of any bird of prey, her clawed hind limbs reaching to grasp onto the ground. However, the time up in the air had allowed the pain to be numbed by the cold and lack of use, and so the sudden pressure had a startled cry leave her muzzle, her limbs buckling beneath her. Instantly she slammed her front legs down, trying to steady herself, her wings immediately flaring out, and for once showing casing their odd design had a purpose, as they seemed to come alive like a webbed appendage, as they helped brace her body from hitting the ground, the hooked thumb putting the join down flat, while webbed fingers extending out, also pressed flat against the floor until she was able to catch her breath and re-establish her balance.
Only once she was sure she would be able to support her weight would she be able to keep her balance did she retract her wings again, flapping them twice to dislodge the snow before folding them tightly against her spine. She kept her eyes carefully void to ignore the pain she felt, even as she clearly gritted her teeth. As her back legs once more began to get used to the stress and weight, and the pain subsided from sharp jabs to a dull throb did, she finally look up to meet Gareth's gaze, instantly speaking in a slightly rough voice of someone who wasn't very familiar, thus very comfortable; with being taken care of by another. "I'm fine before you ask. Forgot how much landing hurt. It's no big deal. I'll get over the pain after a bit, have had I to be. Can't just up and magically make things stop hurting." She states dismissively, even as she unintentionally displayed just how little she knew about healing with that very sentence, unaware certain plants could be eaten to dull or even get rid of the pain completely. Unaware of medicinal practices at all.
She shifts her gaze away from her current caregiver. While she was growing more comfortable with his presence, the idea of having to be taken care of was still foreign. She'd raised herself (and her brother) after all. No one had ever taken the time to check on her. No one had ever tended her wounds, checked on how she was, or berated her for letting her state decline - or at least, none before this stallion. She didn't know how to feel about that or how to feel about the slight warmth that blossomed in her belly over the attention. The twinge, the subtle flutter of butterflies - not of the romantic variation - it was far too early for that just yet, but rather the warmth and fluttering of having someone worry about her, a stranger at that.
A feeling of warmth made her start to feel a little less alone and unstable on here, in this world. It was still new, still frail and delicate, easily crushed. But it was there, a subtle sense of maybe this land could be providing, the horses she'd scoffed at for their lack of self-preservation might actually not be as bad as she'd first expected. "So," she starts awkwardly, finally looking back to him, her limbs now used to the weight enough that she was able to take steps to draw her closer to him, so they could speak a little easier, "it looks like there are clouds coming in. I don't know . . . . what the different storms of this season might look like, so you'll have to decide yourself what it might mean - I just know what the air feels like with the approach of a storm." She pauses before adding, "The world I come from . . . doesn't have a cold season like this . . . So, I don't even know if there are storms that are bad during this season. Just that it drops frozen water from the sky." She adds.
She keeps the distance between them, not encroaching too close, trying to maintain a distance to not upset him or his pack member [the elk] from being so unnerved from the close proximity of what they both were still thinking was just another predator. She shivered a little more now from the cold, at the base of these mountains that would grow colder as they climbed, but said nothing to her discomfort, as her gaze searched the paths, "Uhm, well, I guess we better keep moving." She added awkwardly, motioning for him to go ahead, she'd follow; even as she fell quiet, a simple shadow watching the area around them with caution, knowing among trees like this . . . the predators, the real predators, would be more plentiful, and with this period being hard enough on an omnivore such as herself, she imagined these predators would be hungry as well, and with both she and the elk injured . . . their temporary pack would be a walking buffet.
this night is heating up
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: Time for some bonding while stuck in a blizzard . . . . you realize this is a romance trope right? xD
raise hell and and turn it up
saying, "if you go on you might pass out in a drain pipe."
oh yeah, don't threaten me with a good time
I'm ready to bleed to make amends And sleep in this dirt we call our bed So tell me your secrets And join me in pieces
To fall and rewrite the bitter end
It was cold and bitter outside on a winter night. But the draw of the moonlight had Aeon out exploring. There was something freeing about being outside in the darkness. There were often less folks around, and there was just a serene stillness that enveloped everything. The howling wind kept him company, urging him to go directions he hadn’t been before. Day by day he mapped his understanding of the landmarks of Novus. It became more apparent as time passed that he would not be returning to the land of his kin.
During his wanderings he had begun to hear muffled noises. Loud and lively but just out of earshot. He followed them curious and cautiously. He soon found himself in a bustling marketplace. He had never observed anything like it before. The flow of the equine seemed to move with its own rhythm and spirit. His senses were overwhelmed, the sights, sounds and scents overpowering. He was so very far from home.
He was able to slink into the crowd, feeling mostly unnoticed. It was hard for a large young colt to move smoothly between others. They seemed to come from all directions. He focused on trying to push through the masses to explore further. He would not let his mind settle on the feeling of being trapped with bodies pushing past his own.
It was at this moment that he saw the moon up ahead. Pushing his way into the center of the marketplace he didn’t understand what he was looking at. He looked at the moon in front of him, then to the one in the sky. How were there two? The colour and the magnificence of it encaptured him. The rest of the marketplace ceased to exist. If they could bring down a moon, then maybe they would know something about sky volcanos.
Swing, Swing for the tangles of
my heart is crushed by a former love.
Can you help me find a way
to carry on again
There's a youthful nervousness, as the stallion treks his way through the Night Market, the gem of Denocte. He finds it pales when he doesn't see what he is searching for at each stall. The priceless piece he is keeping his eyes peeled for. Should he have sent a note, mentioned he was making trek? Would this have been a mistake? What if he scoffs when he sees him? Why did he feel like a young colt trying to bring weeds to his first crush, unaware he'd picked only weeds. A soft, airy touch to his shoulder has his head turning to the ghostly apparition at his side. The stag is barely visible, but he offers a reassuring grin, his gaze filled with fatherly affection. With Keokuk at his side, Rylan is more certain than ever that he won't be facing this alone at least. The stag nods once, before he disappears into a whisp, his presence constant in Rylan's mind, even if the spirit guide isn't always visible. Tyee is more than willing to keep the buckskin company, as he weaves between his legs, tail wagging, and doesn't hesitate to yip in an ungodly amount of energy that only a pup in his youth can possess. The wolf-mix leaps forward, about to take off towards a laughing foal who looks eager to play with the puppy, but a quick piercing whistle from the stallion has the wolf-mix pup sliding to a stop, ears back and looking almost as pouty as the foal. "Sorreh there, li'le miss, I just gotta be able ta stay close enough ta him to see where he's off. Imma be meanderin' these here stalls though, so he can play for the time being." Rylan's smile is gentle as the foal gushes thanks, before taking off in a merry chase after the excited puppy. With Tyee properly-being entertained, as only a foal can; the stallion casually browses the stalls.
He knows what he's doing. Never thought I would see the day in which you are procrastinating. Keokuk's voice whispers through his mind, as the stag fades back into view beside him. The stall owner jumps before staring in awe at the spirit animal even as Rylan grimaced with a 'you caught me' smile. "I know." He agrees, even as his heart has started to jackhammer in his chest at the reminder of why he was here, who he was here to see. A flash of those molted lips twisted in a charming, tantalizing grin. The way those expressive eyes had stared him through to the core as he'd suggested Rylan come to visit. Stepping to another stall, Rylan glances towards the pronged bonded, "I feel so silleh bein' nervous, Keokuk. But I ain't able ta stop them bu'erflies. They're just makin' a mess of meh belleh. Twistin' meh guts up until I feel like I gotta excuse mehself to throw up somewhere. I always knew where meh eye preferred ta wander, but I ain't never thought ta give inta them temptations . . . and Keokuk, that man is so temptin' it ain't legal. Makes me wanna call in a Sheriff, 'cause, with the way he cain turn heads, it gotta be a disturbance ta public safety."
The stag chuckled, No one would believe that you can't flirt to save your life if they heard you describe them like that . . . Rylan cut the stag a dirty look, knowing it was a purposeful dig at how he became so tongue-tied around a pretty man. "Don't I know it!? I can't help it though! When ya see someone that fine, yer gonna get a little tongue-tied. There just ain't words ta describe 'im." Keokuk smirked again, and Rylan merely huffed, before turning back down the road, noting the pup was still being entertained, the stallion finally stepped towards a small coffee shop, motioning for a drink, dark with a single spoonful of sugar, before collapsing at a chair, his long, dark brown fringe falling into those turquoise eyes, "A'right, a'right. I know ya ain't meanin' no harm, but just 'cause ya don't know what it feels like ta find words escapin' ya don't mean ya can tease me 'bout it. Ain't yeah suppose ta guide meh? So guide a guy?"
Keokuk merely smirked, arching an eyebrow before looking over Rylan's shoulder to a figure approaching in the distance, Guidance, huh? Better start working on remembering how to talk . . . . Incoming. Rylan's eyes widened almost comically in the opinion of the stag, even as the stallion suddenly spun around. Rylan's eyes fluttered in disbelief, his heart picking up pace again, mouth growing dry as he suddenly felt like a schoolgirl watching their senpai approach while they hid a box of chocolate behind their back. Swallowing hard, it took two tries before he managed to find his voice, "R-reinhart!" It was both a call of greeting, as well as an invitation to join him if the handsome stallion wasn't busy. Rylan himself was half pawing at the ground with a hoof, nervous as he shook his mane out, trying to hide the jitters, the nervousness, damn . . . though. His memory hadn't done the man justice. Here, now, in front of - Rylan had to swallow hard - how was Reinhart even more handsome in person, wasn't your mind supposed to build them up in your mind, so when you saw them again, they always weren't as 'impressive' as their memory alluded to?
His mind was broken, but Reinhart had taken his breath away with just how beautiful he was in real life. The memory hadn't compared.
Wish cast into the sky, I'm moving on
"Speech" Thoughts
Keokuk
@Reinhart Notes: Shy boy couldn't even get out the words 'join me?' But he managed his name haha.
Sweet beginnings do arise,
she knows I was wrong.
The notes are old,
they bend, they fold
and so do I to a new love.
