Odet drifts alongside him as they approach, his lazy flight belying the nervousness that crashed in waves larger than the ocean through their mental bond. The songbird was a bundle of nerves, never still, never calm; and it did nothing to improve Ipomoea’s own state of mind.
But to anyone who did not know the jay, or who could not read his mind like a book, nothing might seem amiss. He always had been an active, twittering fellow, true to his species. Only his bonded could detect the change in his demeanor, subtle though it was. ”Relax,” he tells him, trying to keep his own thoughts steady. ”Nothing is going to happen.” But Odet doesn’t answer him, and they approach Eulalie and her bonded in near silence.
“It’s good to see you, Eulalie, Tabbris,” he says when they draw close enough for greetings. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” He doesn’t mention the monsters hiding in the forest, the way even the thought of it seems to darken the clouds in the sky. He flicks his tail, as if dismissing the thought.
“I would love to,” he turns down the beach alongside her, feeling the sand about his hooves. His laugh is light, if slightly higher than usual. “Odet was worrying the same,” he says, as the songbird flutters just overhead. “But now there’s the four of us, and all is well,” he agrees, but he isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince Odet or himself.
For a moment they lapse into silence, with only the beating of Odet’s wings and the crashing of the waves on the sand to fill the air. The appaloosa kicks at the sand with his hooves, his eyes downcast. ”Do you fancy a race?” He lifts his gaze to Eulalie, finding a mischievous sparkle in her warm brown eyes.
“A race?” he echoes. It feels like an eternity ago that he had considered sprinting down the shoreline himself - even though it had only been several minutes earlier. ”To that point, down the shore.” His gaze follows her’s, to the unfamiliar shadows that hover in the distance. He squints his eyes, trying to make out their shape, and fails.
”Come on!” Eulalie cries - and without thinking, without questioning it, Ipomoea throws all his previous caution to the wind and follows.
The sky stretches overhead, the sand below, and it feels as if he’s racing the wind as much as he’s racing Eulalie. The waves turn to roars of delight, punctuating her laughter that drifts behind her like smoke: every crash is a cheer, egging him on. His wings flatten against his angles, wind whipping through feathers and hair alike. Gradually his stride steadies and evens out, lengthening as he stretches, kicking up sand behind him that sparkles like gold in the sunlight.
He stretches his dark muzzle out before him, nearly even with Eulalie now. They gallop along the beach side-by-side; one of them is dark, the other golden, but they’re one and the same. Wild laughter tears free from his lips, stolen from him by the wind, banishing the fears from before from his mind.
The dark shapes are growing larger, gaining clarity as they approach, forming craggy limbs that raise like outstretched arms into the sky. There’s a triangle of them, 3 in total; dark stone fingers that rise into the air and meet at the top.
Ipomoea skids to a stop as he circles around the formation, spinning to face Eulalie with a smile on his face. Laughter is still tittering breathlessly from his open mouth, as he stops and struggles to catch his breath. “I haven’t run like that since-“ ”since you were a kid,” Odet answers for him in his mind, perching atop the stones. “In a long time.”
He’s still walking, blood rushing through his limbs, unable to stand still. Ipomoea cranes his head back to inspect the rocks that tower over his head. There’s enough room to stand between them all, in their center, but he doesn’t. “Kind of neat, aren’t they?” he asks Eulalie, circling around them.
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
@eulalie !
”here am i!“
