He’s dressed in sunlight like a silken robe, smooth and soft and delicate on his skin. It fits him exquisitely, clings to his curves and limns them in gold as if the sun were designed for him, and him alone. It isn’t, of course, but Eros certainly has a way about him of making things seem as though they were—the flowers twined in his tail, the pigment gilding his hooves, the kohl lining his eyes. It is as if his beauty magnifies theirs, not the other way around.
Or maybe that is just how the sun makes him feel.
Warm and comfortable, a yawn escapes his mouth. A lazy, contented smile plays on his lips as he rolls onto his back and stretches, long and lithe with arcing ribs bared. Pop! He can feel his joints crack in his knees and hips. Eros often worries that he’s getting old, that his beauty is evanescent, but he is rarely faced with the reality. When his face begins to wrinkle, or his tail to thin, will he still hold value? Will I still be wanted?, he wonders, then shies from the prospect.
Suddenly, a mare dances past him, twirling and spinning as though she brims with energy and youth. Her hooves reach forward outstretched and he mimics the motion, closing his eyes against the cerulean sky as he braces himself for… Pop! He jerks upright, eyes wide as she stares back at him. She heard me. Color rises in his cheeks and he trains his eyes downward.“Your dance was beautiful,” he mumbles at the daffodil under his nose. In the breeze, it curtsies.
Eros chances a look up, offering a polite smile that belies his embarrassment when she mirrors the flower’s bow.“That would be nice, thank you. I’m Eros.”
@messalina
it's just excessive vanity, messa c'x
Or maybe that is just how the sun makes him feel.
Warm and comfortable, a yawn escapes his mouth. A lazy, contented smile plays on his lips as he rolls onto his back and stretches, long and lithe with arcing ribs bared. Pop! He can feel his joints crack in his knees and hips. Eros often worries that he’s getting old, that his beauty is evanescent, but he is rarely faced with the reality. When his face begins to wrinkle, or his tail to thin, will he still hold value? Will I still be wanted?, he wonders, then shies from the prospect.
Suddenly, a mare dances past him, twirling and spinning as though she brims with energy and youth. Her hooves reach forward outstretched and he mimics the motion, closing his eyes against the cerulean sky as he braces himself for… Pop! He jerks upright, eyes wide as she stares back at him. She heard me. Color rises in his cheeks and he trains his eyes downward.
Eros chances a look up, offering a polite smile that belies his embarrassment when she mirrors the flower’s bow.
@messalina
it's just excessive vanity, messa c'x
