S I M O

The water was cool against his throat, a welcome change from the normally tepid water of Solterra -- though he was sure that it would cause his belly grief later. Certainly, they had cool water but only if you could get down past the sun’s reach. His freckled lips brushed the surface of the water like a caress, his eyes closed as he also drank in the peace of this place. He could not recall such a lush, green place in Solterra other than the oasis -- which didn’t hold a damn candle to the babbling song of the creek. The delicate wings behind his ears were resting beneath the entanglement of ink and cream colored hair, nestled like the bird they took after and he looked for all intents and purposes just like any other being on the earth.

He was a long way from the desert sands, the creek in which he drank nestled between the dawn and dusk courts. He had been looking for fine, smooth stones to use for his craft as well as anything that appeared to be beautiful or with the potential to become such. The satchel at his hip was filled with his sparse findings thus far, but he had high hopes to at least find some things of worth that maybe he could use to trade for the materials he desired. A sound caused his ear to twist about, lifting his head as water dripped from his chin -- the stillness of the autumn morning broken by something just off to his left.

The stallion, colored like a storm splashed with cream, frowned -- and tread carefully. He was far from his allies and his home, quite close to border lines that might not welcome him. He took a deep breath, though he noted no odd smells other than the crispness of the air. The leaves that had fallen from the trees were of no aid to him as he crept closer to the sound, hiding behind a sparse bush just large enough to conceal him from view.

The stallion dropped his eyes quickly upon taking in the scene, clenching his eyes shut. Oh no! Had he spied on a lady bathing? It certainly seemed so, just the quick glimpse that he had caught painting a picture of a golden beauty splattered with cosmos of color who was just barely in the chilly water of the creek. His wings spread themselves, reaching forward to help cover his eyes -- and he risked peeking through one of the feathery tips to confirm his sight. He was hardly a lecherous man, but he had to know for sure!

”Ah, e-e-excuse me, miss! He called, covering his eyes again. What a sight he was, cowered behind a bush like some sort of peeping tom!

S I M O

Heat flushed his cheeks, his feathered appendages still covering his eyes as he waited to be discovered by the feminine beauty that he had found in the creek's embrace. His ears quivered much like his knees as he listened to her bell-like voice ring out. O-oh? He wondered, tenderly lifting on of the delicate wings so that he could look again -- the mare coming out of the water. He could see for the first time that her golden pelt was splashed with a galaxy of colors-- vibrant pinks, purples and blues, and he perked up. His pale blue gaze wandered appreciatively, his artistic eye intrigued by the placement of those bursts of color. It was not until she spoke again that he truly heard her, his gaze flying to meet one that was nearly identical to his own.

His ears fell back against his skull at the mention of biting, a slight unease curling into his chest at the idea of being bitten. The stallion was no ninny, but he did not make a habit of hurting women (or anyone really) so if she was going to bite him well...he supposed there wasn't much to do about it. He laughed nervously, the sound a bit strangled in his throat. He glanced around at the scenery, the creek's quiet babbling in the background as he let an awkward silence fill the space for a few moments. "Faye?" He mused aloud, tilting his head as his wings finally tucked themselves back behind his ears -- laying down against the nape of his neck. "Like a fairy?" He asked, more aware of himself after a moment.

The stallion colored like a storm-cloud gave another pause, not wanting to admit that he knew anything about things like fairies. For all he knew they were just children's stories that his mother liked to tell. "Oh...I'm Zosimos. But you can call me Simo." He glanced at the creek and took another small step back. "I'm sorry to interrupt your...ahem...bath?" He asked, arching an eyebrow.