He watched me, as if debating on exactly how to approach my candor. It seems to me that perhaps he is not often met with honesty and kindness, maybe not even from his own people. It then occurs to me, if only briefly, that perhaps this figure of lightning - alive, stunning, powerful, brooding - may be not as he seems. Though the stallion does not quite relax once he passes his judgement on me, the threat of danger and potential animosity no longer permeates the air. If anything, there may be the lingering of disappointment, though it seems that he has enough hospitality to cover that feeling with his politeness.
Delumine... I mull the title of the land over my tongue like a strange wine. It flows down my throat and settles into my stomach to warm me as the sun begins to climb higher. It’s a lovely name, I think, for a land that I think I may be seeing for a small while. I let it fill me with warmth and gratitude, even if it is a name I’ve never heard or read in all my years within our tribal archives. Perhaps the names that we give to the regions that we visit on our planes-walking are not the proper titles at all, though it would seem silly that those who observe would not be diligent enough to encounter someone who speaks of their home and find a way to catalogue it. Still, I suppose that there could be some error. Mayhaps I have heard of this place. A rose by any other name, after all.
I smile wholly, careful to not catch his eye, and bob my head, my bells giggling with excitement. “Yes, of course, Sir. If it pleases you, I would be delighted to share a sunrise in your beautiful Delumine.” I take a step forward and move around to his side, giving him a respectful berth, but nothing as to seem as if I am avoiding him. At this radius, I can feel the electric tingle against my flesh, the whisper of a thousand ghosts against my skin, all wanting to tell me their little secrets in a private place where we won't be disturbed.
“If you know of a particularly good place to view it, I would ask you to lead the way, else I might end up putting us in a spot with hardly a view at all.” I breathed a laugh, and though it was not quite as hearty as I would normally apply to a new meeting, it is still appropriate and genuine. Looking closer to his person, perhaps he is no god at all. Though the lightning at first I thought was born from him, it seems to cover him more like a blanket, a swath of armor meant to keep him safe from the cruelties of the world. Cruelties he must have surely seen in droves. The thought saddens me a bit, and I wonder what might have happened to this stallion if he may have led a life of anything other than the one he has.
I pause a moment, wondering if I should ask after a name that has yet been offered. It is normally inappropriate to inquire of your betters things that they don’t give freely. Or so I have been told to think of it. In this case, though, I feel the urge to ask him all the same, and I indulge it in the most polite way that I can. “And whom may I call my viewing companion?”
the white wing dove
sings a song
sings a song
« r » ||@
