Myfanwy, may you spend your lifetime
“”
Beneath the midday sunshine's glow,
“”
Beneath the midday sunshine's glow,
I thought it was yours.
Relieved, embarrassed laughter bubbled from her chest at those words. It chimed like bells tolling out the truth of their misunderstanding through the windswept boughs of the willow tree above them. But nearly as quickly as the laughter had come, Asterion pressed onward, and the lilac mare's prismatic eyes went round with wonder at his next words.
She'd never been to a festival before. Mother was terrified of crowds and so she was terrified of them, for even prey are dangerous in large enough numbers. But stories carried into her midst on the backs and lips of travelers had been enough to whet her appetite for the unknown, and often she dreamed of grand castles and wild adventures despite being still too cowardly to experience them herself.
Asterion started backpedaling, and for once the part of her that ached to lunge at a fleeing meal quivered less eagerly than the one that simply wanted him to stay.
"Wait -" she chirped, stepping forward as he stepped back. The willow too resisted his retreat, its tapered limbs cascading across his star-marked flesh like a sylvan cloak. "You don't have to go. I don't mind."
Truthfully it was rare to meet passers-by that didn't seem in a hurry, or that didn't already have company of their own of a sort that, ah, rather did not lend itself to an extra particpant. Rarer still was it to run into someone so pleasant, whose dark eyes sang with depths that belonged only to the gealach uisce and whose skin danced with celestial fire.
"What was it like?" she continued, her voice painted with the same innocent eagerness that glistened in her veiled eyes. "The festival, I mean."
Relieved, embarrassed laughter bubbled from her chest at those words. It chimed like bells tolling out the truth of their misunderstanding through the windswept boughs of the willow tree above them. But nearly as quickly as the laughter had come, Asterion pressed onward, and the lilac mare's prismatic eyes went round with wonder at his next words.
She'd never been to a festival before. Mother was terrified of crowds and so she was terrified of them, for even prey are dangerous in large enough numbers. But stories carried into her midst on the backs and lips of travelers had been enough to whet her appetite for the unknown, and often she dreamed of grand castles and wild adventures despite being still too cowardly to experience them herself.
Asterion started backpedaling, and for once the part of her that ached to lunge at a fleeing meal quivered less eagerly than the one that simply wanted him to stay.
"Wait -" she chirped, stepping forward as he stepped back. The willow too resisted his retreat, its tapered limbs cascading across his star-marked flesh like a sylvan cloak. "You don't have to go. I don't mind."
Truthfully it was rare to meet passers-by that didn't seem in a hurry, or that didn't already have company of their own of a sort that, ah, rather did not lend itself to an extra particpant. Rarer still was it to run into someone so pleasant, whose dark eyes sang with depths that belonged only to the gealach uisce and whose skin danced with celestial fire.
"What was it like?" she continued, her voice painted with the same innocent eagerness that glistened in her veiled eyes. "The festival, I mean."
And on your cheeks O may the roses
“”
Dance for a hundred years or so.
“”
Dance for a hundred years or so.
@Asterion
