There was blood on his chest. Dripping down his legs, staining his muscles, soaking him through to the bone. Rivers of red bled through his pristine coat, rust taking over the white.
He’d washed it off in the river, when he had finally left Solterra. But blood never really did come clean—it clung to him, long after the last droplets had been wiped away. His coat shone in the sunlight, bright and white and clean, but his soul remained far more tarnished. Even when this time he had only been helping to clean up the blood of others; he hadn’t had to shed his own in a while now. But blood was a funny thing, like oil: it didn’t matter if it was your’s or others, by your hoof or a sword or if you were simply an observer to the chaos.
It stained everything indiscriminately. His body was clean now, washed with the water; his conscience, not so much.
The sand beneath his hooves turned to grass, rolling hills of green that stretched as far as the eye could see. Aion hadn’t seen a sky so blue or vibrant in what felt like years: it was a welcome sight. The skies in the Day Court had been blue, in their own way: but it was a dry blue, a pale blue. And more often than not, the horizons were yellow with dust or smoke.
He was still making his way through the wild grasses and flowers when he first heard the song.
It rose up in the air around him, faint and lilting in the wind. His ears pricked forward, pausing in his step to better listen.
”I know love, little one; love is like a flower.”
His heart stung in his chest. The simile was sappy and romantic, and it sounded like something his partner might have said, further reminding him that he was alone.
Without stopping to question himself or his actions, Aion followed the sound of the woman’s voice. It didn’t take long for him to find the source, rounding a hill to see the speckled pegasus wandering just as aimlessly as he through the flowers.
"Oh, why is love a flower little one? Love is a flower for the sweetness it gives before it dies."
He hesitated for only a moment before he stepped forward once more, angling so as to interject her own path.
“Some might say love never dies,” he said softly, unsure if she would even hear him. His heart constricted painfully once more. “From that perspective, it’s not like flowers at all.”
@lisseut hope you don't mind me throwing him in here! ;u;
"talk." text.
He’d washed it off in the river, when he had finally left Solterra. But blood never really did come clean—it clung to him, long after the last droplets had been wiped away. His coat shone in the sunlight, bright and white and clean, but his soul remained far more tarnished. Even when this time he had only been helping to clean up the blood of others; he hadn’t had to shed his own in a while now. But blood was a funny thing, like oil: it didn’t matter if it was your’s or others, by your hoof or a sword or if you were simply an observer to the chaos.
It stained everything indiscriminately. His body was clean now, washed with the water; his conscience, not so much.
The sand beneath his hooves turned to grass, rolling hills of green that stretched as far as the eye could see. Aion hadn’t seen a sky so blue or vibrant in what felt like years: it was a welcome sight. The skies in the Day Court had been blue, in their own way: but it was a dry blue, a pale blue. And more often than not, the horizons were yellow with dust or smoke.
He was still making his way through the wild grasses and flowers when he first heard the song.
It rose up in the air around him, faint and lilting in the wind. His ears pricked forward, pausing in his step to better listen.
”I know love, little one; love is like a flower.”
His heart stung in his chest. The simile was sappy and romantic, and it sounded like something his partner might have said, further reminding him that he was alone.
Without stopping to question himself or his actions, Aion followed the sound of the woman’s voice. It didn’t take long for him to find the source, rounding a hill to see the speckled pegasus wandering just as aimlessly as he through the flowers.
"Oh, why is love a flower little one? Love is a flower for the sweetness it gives before it dies."
He hesitated for only a moment before he stepped forward once more, angling so as to interject her own path.
“Some might say love never dies,” he said softly, unsure if she would even hear him. His heart constricted painfully once more. “From that perspective, it’s not like flowers at all.”
@lisseut hope you don't mind me throwing him in here! ;u;
"talk." text.
art by neverrmind
