r
ounded ears are slanted forward and ember eyes are trained intently on the ashy stranger in concern, searching for any sign that he might have injured the other stallion in their collision. There was a time (not too long ago) when Fang had the ability to heal others with magic, and to be guided by the plants themselves in doing so, but those precious gifts have been swallowed in shadows along with the rest of his home. Still, he remembers a few herbal techniques to help soothe minor wounds.
Fortunately, the stranger doesn’t take long to rise steadily to his feet. Seeing this, Fang feels the tightness in his chest loosen with relief, and the dark skin of his nostrils curls with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Matching the stallion’s charismatic smile with a hollow one of his own (it isn’t as easy as it once was), he nods at the other man’s query. “Startled too,” he chuckles dryly. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you. Sorry about that…again,” he tries to hold back a grimace, still embarrassed by his clumsiness, which results in a crooked pinching of his lips that feels awkward and out of place.
Fang’s discomfort morphs when he is suddenly given a compliment, changing from distress and into something more bashful. He can hardly remember the last time someone called him handsome—at least, someone since Bella. There are times when he swears he can see it in Requiem’s eyes, but perhaps it is only wishful thinking. “Oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything like that,” the boy says with a short laugh and shake of his head.
Blinking the curls from his eyes, Fang appreciates the awful joke that the other man includes with his introduction—it is corny, but amusing nevertheless. There is silent laughter in his eyes as he inclines his head forward. “A pleasure, Reinhart, although I would have liked to meet under different circumstances. My name’s Fang,” his lips twist amiably around the pointed canines of his namesake, though the gesture is a ghost in comparison to the brightness of Reinhart’s grin. Perhaps he will be able to smile like that again, when the beasts no longer plague his dreams and the shadows no longer haunt his memories, but it is a fantasy that seems nearly impossible now.
“I’m new to Denocte—well, new to Novus in general. I’m still getting my bearings,” he offers, maybe by way of explanation. Shifting his weight, the red stallion casts his fiery eyes through the early morning mist before he continues. “I must’ve woken you, I’ll let you get back to your rest,” he adds, assuming that he has already disturbed the other stallion’s morning enough.
tag; @Reinhart
“…”
Fortunately, the stranger doesn’t take long to rise steadily to his feet. Seeing this, Fang feels the tightness in his chest loosen with relief, and the dark skin of his nostrils curls with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Matching the stallion’s charismatic smile with a hollow one of his own (it isn’t as easy as it once was), he nods at the other man’s query. “Startled too,” he chuckles dryly. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you. Sorry about that…again,” he tries to hold back a grimace, still embarrassed by his clumsiness, which results in a crooked pinching of his lips that feels awkward and out of place.
Fang’s discomfort morphs when he is suddenly given a compliment, changing from distress and into something more bashful. He can hardly remember the last time someone called him handsome—at least, someone since Bella. There are times when he swears he can see it in Requiem’s eyes, but perhaps it is only wishful thinking. “Oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything like that,” the boy says with a short laugh and shake of his head.
Blinking the curls from his eyes, Fang appreciates the awful joke that the other man includes with his introduction—it is corny, but amusing nevertheless. There is silent laughter in his eyes as he inclines his head forward. “A pleasure, Reinhart, although I would have liked to meet under different circumstances. My name’s Fang,” his lips twist amiably around the pointed canines of his namesake, though the gesture is a ghost in comparison to the brightness of Reinhart’s grin. Perhaps he will be able to smile like that again, when the beasts no longer plague his dreams and the shadows no longer haunt his memories, but it is a fantasy that seems nearly impossible now.
“I’m new to Denocte—well, new to Novus in general. I’m still getting my bearings,” he offers, maybe by way of explanation. Shifting his weight, the red stallion casts his fiery eyes through the early morning mist before he continues. “I must’ve woken you, I’ll let you get back to your rest,” he adds, assuming that he has already disturbed the other stallion’s morning enough.
tag; @Reinhart
“…”
Courage,
dear heart.
Lost boys like me
are free.
are free.
please tag Fang in all replies; magic and force are permitted
