so lay me down in golden dandelions 

His mind was still foggy, the image of the snowman still replaying in his mind. Behind him, the strange little creature had started up a snowball fight--much to the dismay of more than a few participants back in the clearing. Po had joined in with wild abandon, shock rendering him giddy and reckless. Snow still clung to his sides in icy patches--a true snowcap appaloosa now!--nearly blending in with the natural patterns of his skin. It was cold, but Ipomoea didn't notice.

As the shock had slowly worn off, Ipomoea had followed suit of many of the others, disappearing into the woods. More and more often, he had found himself needing solitude and reprieve from the crowds he often found himself in, from the hustle and bustle that had a way of clouding his mind. The animated snowman, and the many horses surrounding him, was no exception: Po could handle the excitement and novelty for a short while. But eventually, his energy would crash, and as those levels dropped, the need for peace and quiet would rise alarmingly quickly within the young Emissary.

'Perhaps your duties are getting to you?'

Ipomoea's halt was abrupt, snowy legs planting into the soft (cold) snow underhoof. The familiar, yet infrequent, voice speaking within his mind was surprising to hear; in the year since rescuing Odet, he had only heard the songbird speak telepathically a scant few times.

And even then, each of those times had been within the last fortnight.

Ipomoea's pale red eyes lifted to the treetops, trying to pick out the blue of his friend from the dark, snow laden canopy looming overhead. But if Odet was nearby, Po certainly couldn't see him. He flicked his short black tail lazily behind him, one mottled ear tilting back instinctively as the voice inside his mind continued. 'It is quite a change from your old lifestyle after all, maybe you're more accustomed to books than fellowship now...'

”No." Ipomoea interrupted his bonded out loud, a waver in his voice. ”I'm just..." his voice trailed off into the frigid winter air. He was what? No excuse that came to mind seemed to accurately categorize how the young stallion was feeling. His brain had turned to mush, the warning signs of a headache blossoming at his temples. He closed his vivid eyes in frustration. ”I don't know what's wrong with me..."

'Hush, Ipo,' the steller's jay used the nickname fondly, his voice gentle and comforting. Ipomoea felt a familiar weight settle atop his poll, and he didn't need to look to know it was Odet nestling himself into the crown of flowers woven there. 'You have company...'

And he was right. As the jay bird began braiding a new plait from Po's charcoal mane, the rose-colored boy turned to see a flash of yellow skin through the trees. He could make out a distinctly equine figure standing not far from him, partially obscured by the vegetation. Just how far had he wandered? It hadn't felt like long, but surely he was deeper in the woods now than he had meant to be. And now here he was, talking out loud as if to himself! Po had not been expecting company, but he was sure he must have looked pretty crazy to an outsider's perspective.

”Hello?" he called hesitantly, stepping around a particularly wide tree trunk to get a better view of the small horse--foal? No, he had no baby fuzz or features on him--perhaps he was just short.

A flash of spiraling horns caught his attention, leading his gaze to the white streaks across the Solterran's face from which mellow violet eyes shone. He was familiar, but only vaguely--it took Po a moment to place his face to a memory, despite it having only occurred a short time ago.

”Oh!" A smile split across his face, and he immediately stepped closer. ”You were at the gathering back there." He remembered him now: could see in his mind the dun fellow handing by the back. He had seemed unwilling to join in then, as though afraid of drawing too close--but the two of them were alone now, and Po had never considered himself to be all that intimidating. ”That was, well, unexpected wasn't it?"

He tried to make a joke out of it, an attempt to mask his own feelings about the recent, and incredibly random, event. ”I mean, it's not everyday that you meet a talking snowman!" 'Let alone build one.'

As the words left his mouth, released into the space separating the two equines, a moment of hesitation struck Po, feeling as though a weight were squeezing his airway shut. What if his mind had made the whole ordeal up? A boy emissary, hearing voices in his head, hallucinating a walking, talking, joking snowman...

Perhaps he was going crazy after all!



@Tamran!
”here am I!”
pretty ooc for po, but this was fun to write~