Far beneath the summer moon, the green scald boy waits with anticipation for something. But he doesn’t know what. The grass is cool against his legs, long and unkempt as he strays from the well manicured paths of the garden. It whispers as he walks, brushing against him and creating a quiet sort of scraping sound as it rubs against his scales. He likes the feel of it – for it reminds him of the water’s soft embrace. Nibbling at the ends of it, he tastes a shock of sweetness like a honeyed sort of clover. The Night Court gives bountifully, and Pan must sample it all. Deeper he walks, further from the lights and fairydust lanterns. Night sounds begin to fill the air, first quietly with the thrum of crickets calling to their mates, but they are joined now by hooting of owls and the lonesome cry of a wolf, far in the distance. Still too, there is a sound that is closer. It is this which calls to Pan, as he twirls to meet the approaching equid in the moonlight. There are only two of them – the boy, and the queen. All around them, the world hushes until only the two remain… and he watches her quietly before taking one step, then two. Nearing her side, he smiles, reaching toward her and ever-so-gently placing his teacup muzzle against the cool glow of her scales. How like they are to his. Perhaps then, this queen of darkness has a story to share, some explanation for what was happening to the boy – for where he’d come from. The scaled boy is silent – his eyes, quietly pleading… lost… and he offers Isra a knowing smile. Do you believe in fairies? For tonight, the air was rich with magic. Tonight, Pan would let himself believe the dreams were real.
@Isra
