Fang
Fang isn’t sure what to expect as he lingers on the broad wooden porch, or if he should even be expecting anything. In any case, he is caught off-guard by the luminous red sphere that suddenly appears from within the tea shop, fluttering close around him. Large, round ears tip back in confusion, the embers of his eyes narrowing for half a second before they widen, watching this strange orb of light. His gaze is soon drawn towards a familiar voice, and the rugged lines of his expression quickly soften from his apprehension. “Tiana…?” The stallion questions at first, before realizing that this peculiar glowing orb is, apparently, sentient and named. “Oh. Well, hello then, Tiana,” he directs his greeting towards the rosy sphere, his lips quirking as he tries not to feel awkward about it.
Returning his attention to the blue mare, he steps forward at her invitation, trying to match her friendly grin with a gentle one of his own. He has half expected her to have forgotten him—their meeting was months ago, and grief has a way of shrinking one’s self-image into a hollow shadow—but his fears are chased away by relief when she not only acknowledges him by name, but also inquires after his recent disappearance.
(Someone had noticed?)
“I—” the boy falters, unsure how to answer. He’s alive but broken, barely-scabbed wounds torn open again as he pines for the familiarity of ruby-red eyes and soft, golden-tipped hair—he doesn’t want to voice this, though, because he is tired of being broken. He is tired of grieving, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. So the large stallion rolls his shoulders in a shrug, and swallows against the tightness in his throat. “Yes. I’ve been well enough. Doing better now, I think,” his lips curl around his canines into a small smile, a shell of his former delight, but one he knows he can manage. Maybe if he says it enough, he’ll start to believe it, and then it’ll become true.
Following Caelum, he watches the flowers that bloom at her feet, somehow put at ease by their spontaneity, with the tones of her laughter briefly softening the raw edges of his mourning. Releasing a heavy sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Fang finds himself settling comfortably in her company. “Thank you. I was passing by and figured it’s about time I take you up on your offer; better late than never, right?” Now it is his turn to laugh—a low, humble sound.
Taking a moment to glance around, he appreciates the silky fabrics that billow over the walls, their satiny pleats highlighted by twinkling lights that play in the folds. Behind clusters of pillows and chairs, he takes note of a counter and shelves, assuming the rows of small jars and bundles of herbs to be part of the supplies she mentioned earlier. Everything about it is warm and inviting. “This is a nice place, Caelum. Very cozy,” he says with genuine praise, imagining (for a moment) that a shop like this would have fit perfectly within Blue Sage Meadows. “Now—” Fang continues quickly, before the ashes of memories darken his thoughts again, “—I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had a cup of tea. What would you recommend?” He looks to Caelum with playful expectation.
tag; @Caelum
“…”
Returning his attention to the blue mare, he steps forward at her invitation, trying to match her friendly grin with a gentle one of his own. He has half expected her to have forgotten him—their meeting was months ago, and grief has a way of shrinking one’s self-image into a hollow shadow—but his fears are chased away by relief when she not only acknowledges him by name, but also inquires after his recent disappearance.
(Someone had noticed?)
“I—” the boy falters, unsure how to answer. He’s alive but broken, barely-scabbed wounds torn open again as he pines for the familiarity of ruby-red eyes and soft, golden-tipped hair—he doesn’t want to voice this, though, because he is tired of being broken. He is tired of grieving, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. So the large stallion rolls his shoulders in a shrug, and swallows against the tightness in his throat. “Yes. I’ve been well enough. Doing better now, I think,” his lips curl around his canines into a small smile, a shell of his former delight, but one he knows he can manage. Maybe if he says it enough, he’ll start to believe it, and then it’ll become true.
Following Caelum, he watches the flowers that bloom at her feet, somehow put at ease by their spontaneity, with the tones of her laughter briefly softening the raw edges of his mourning. Releasing a heavy sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Fang finds himself settling comfortably in her company. “Thank you. I was passing by and figured it’s about time I take you up on your offer; better late than never, right?” Now it is his turn to laugh—a low, humble sound.
Taking a moment to glance around, he appreciates the silky fabrics that billow over the walls, their satiny pleats highlighted by twinkling lights that play in the folds. Behind clusters of pillows and chairs, he takes note of a counter and shelves, assuming the rows of small jars and bundles of herbs to be part of the supplies she mentioned earlier. Everything about it is warm and inviting. “This is a nice place, Caelum. Very cozy,” he says with genuine praise, imagining (for a moment) that a shop like this would have fit perfectly within Blue Sage Meadows. “Now—” Fang continues quickly, before the ashes of memories darken his thoughts again, “—I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had a cup of tea. What would you recommend?” He looks to Caelum with playful expectation.
tag; @Caelum
“…”
Lost boys like me
are free.
are free.
please tag Fang in all replies; magic and force are permitted
