That glimmer of mischief in her eyes - the unicorn colt chances to catch it, and this time he recognizes it for what it is. That other girl had looked at him the same way, her amethyst eyes laughing, and leaving him wondering whether or not she meant him ill. It makes him swallow hard and look away. Unlike last time (thank the gods) no tears sting and cloud his vision; he’s learned to master his frustration somewhat, at least. To add insult to injury, she calls him babe. She couldn’t know what Florentine had called him - pretty boy, lover boy, but nonetheless it’s a final wound. He stamps a fore-hoof with a snort and faces her again, lifting his chin. In those moments, more brief than the passing breath of wind that lifts both their golden manes, he decides that this encounter with a mare will not end the same way as the last one. Otherwise he’d only be proving that terrible winged girl right. And so, when she tells him after some consideration where she’s headed, Charlemagne looks her in the eye and flashes his most courtly smile. “I’ve just joined the Dawn Court as a scholar,” he says, and shapes his voice into something more sure of itself, bedrock beneath the shivering sand. “Do you mind if I accompany you? I’ve not had the chance to see the other courts yet, and there’s so much to learn.” Maybe he’d learned something from the Dusk Court girl after all; there was a strange power in talking and assuming people wanted to listen. Without waiting for her answer the unicorn started forward, each step a susurrus in the sand, and only paused to glance back over his shoulder to add, “I’m Charlemagne. A pleasure to meet you.” @ |
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