Imagine his shock when winter arrived. Winter, when his mind was still stuck on that early Autumn day. Winter, and the killer was still out there. It made him feel restless and useless and most of all unsatisfied with the length between one major event and another. It was not at all like a real story.
He did not know what else to do with his restlessness except to bury it in the library. Which brings us to the ram-horned stranger, and the golden snake, and the spark of... the spark of something in the air that has no name yet.
He does not realize his approach has gone unnoticed. "What's that?" Mateo tries to maintain the hush of the library, but excitement leeches volume into his bright voice. It is for the best that they are alone-- there is no one to scowl at the unintentionally loud black pegasus, although he is unfortunately accustomed to such reactions every now and again.
He watches the snake's tongue flicker, testing the air in a way that is partly familiar, partly unfamiliar. For the pegasus reads the wind beneath his wings as a matter of balance and speed and, on a bad day, survival. But the snake seems to feel at the air in a hungry way, like looking for the answer to a question.
"Is it... magic?" Mateo turns his sharp silver-green gaze to the other stallion and surprise flashes across his expression. He feels his cheeks warm as the sheer force of the stranger's presence dawns on him. (how... beautiful) He straightens, feeling plain and boyish and inferior in every way, and then laughs quietly for no reason other than to calm his nerves. The sound falls flat. He clears his throat. "Uhm..." (say something. say something) "I'm Mateo."
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@Toulouse
