I'm ready to bleed to make amends
And sleep in this dirt we call our bed
So tell me your secrets
And join me in pieces
To fall and rewrite the bitter end
He hadn’t heard her approach well and truly engrossed in his scratching. With the sound of her voice he stopped mid-scratch, opened his eyes and quickly drew his head away from the tree. Assuming that maybe the word library was a reference to the type of tree he had been scratching on. “Uh, yes.” he said, unsure of exactly what to say, then adding “The trees are whispering to me, and I feel as though I could just sleep here. I don’t think they mind my scratching. They drew me here. I feel like I was meant to come here.” He surprised himself with his honesty and openness and the amount of words that he had spoken.
The jingling of the bells caught his attention. The sound was so bizarre and foriegn to his ears. It was not all-together unpleasant, just odd. He eventually put the connection together that the dangling things were doing the jingeling. The bells drew his attention to her horns, they were unlike his own kin. They were branching and longer, rather than curled. His gaze lingered briefly at her bright clear eyes, friendly and inviting.
“Why do you think the trees whisper? They don’t feel like other plants.” He asked inquisitively, letting his gaze meet hers again. He felt that she was open to this interaction, but that somehow he was undeserving of this attention. It was unusual for adults to be interested in the youth. Foals were irrelevant until they could prove their strength, fly and keep up with the adults. Most born were able to fly within a reasonable time frame. Most of those who could not fly perished from one thing or another. Aeon had managed to survive, until the disaster with the volcano had shaken him from the existence he knew.
He noticed her nose ring. Its purpose eluded him. Everything attached to her matched her beauty; but the items still seemed to hold a purpose. The drape he reasoned could keep the sun at bay a little, or keep her mane out of her eyes in the wind. The bells, maybe she wanted to be heard coming. But the nose ring - it seemed to be entirely for fashion. Unless there was something he was missing all together. He tried not to stare, but in his youth he wasn’t entirely sure where to hold his gaze. Or at all why she might be interested to know of his enjoyment of this place.
ooc: @Torielle
